In Dreams He Came
by DefyGravity18
Summary: Kind of a AU thing...anyways...takes place at the end of the musical. Christine is leaving the Phantom with Raoul, she watches as he grows smaller in the distance sadly and he leaves her a goodbye note before she goes to sleep...
1. Chapter 1

She watched as the distance between them became greater within moments. She watched the expression on his marred face morph from grief to bitter anguish. He pleaded with his eyes, begging her to come back yet they both knew she could not. After all, it was he who had made her leave. Then of course, there was Raoul, who's neck now bore the burn of a rope and left him still gasping for his breath as he pushed the gondola through the cavern. She supported him with her arm, but she could not tear her eyes from the man standing on the shore of the underground lake. In the distance, she could hear the mob of performers and audience members as they pursued him mercilessly. She glanced at Raoul, who was not faring well…his wet hair clung to his face and neck and he was exhausted.

Gently, she coaxed him to lie in the boat as she took over the steering. He did not fight her, only laid down. She looked back again, and the Phantom was gone, but she heard the faint sound of shattering glass. The tears streamed down her face and the final time she looked back at that underground haven, the only thing she could see was Meg Giry holding his white mask in her small white hands. Meg looked up and met her eyes for a moment, questioning, fearful. Sighing, she turned her focus back to rowing and when they finally reached the foot of the stairs, she helped her young love out of the boat, holding his weight as they ascended the spiraling staircase and into the tunnel which led to the two way mirror entrance.

Madame Giry waited for them in that dressing room, sitting on the sofa in silent prayer. When she heard the mirror slide open, she looked at the couple, her face whitening when she saw Raoul's state.

"He must see a doctor." She said, taking the other side. "We must find Meg and get him to a doctor at once."

"I am here Maman." The girl's voice came from the doorway as everyone turned to see her holding the mask. "He's gone." She said sadly and for a moment, Madame Giry's eyes flashed with passing grief, but the task at hand was more important.

Raoul suffered from a concussion, but thankfully had found his breath again. He had bruises all along his neck and arms and on his cheek. She herself had bruises all along her arms. One particularly large one on her upper arm. The doctor eyed them both as he noticed their wet tattered clothes and especially that she was wearing a wedding dress. Still, if he did think anything of it, he didn't say a word and sent them on their way. They then took Raoul to his parent's home to rest and returned to the opera, their home to sleep. The auditorium had been half destroyed, but thankfully the fire had been doused before it could spread to any other part of the opera.

She cried into her pillow that night, feeling a sense of emptiness she hadn't felt since her father had died nine years before for she knew that her Angel would not be there to sing her to sleep. Only horrid, unending silence. She was nearly asleep when she heard a slow whisper in the back of her mind beckoning her to wake.

"_Christine…"_ She rose quickly, becoming hopeful, but realized she must have been imagining it. As she made to go back to bed, she noticed near the door to her room there was a small slip of paper. Hastily, she snatched it up and took it to her bed with her, turning on her kerosene lamp.

_Christine, my beloved Christine…_

_Do not fear for me, for I am free now…your kiss set me free. I shall not be returning to Paris or the opera, and regrettably, you. Please forgive me for every pain I have caused you, I shall have to bear the weight of my sins for the rest of my insignificant life. I wish you every happiness in this world and I want you to know that after every horrible thing that has happened in my life, it was not a waste for you were in it, and made me better for knowing you. I didn't lie when I said I loved you…_

_Goodbye, my Angel…_

_Yours forever and always, _

_Erik_

Her tears did not stop her from smiling as she read the last word which would play upon her lips like a sacred prayer.

"Erik." She whispered into the night. So he had a name. She cradled the letter in her hands as she lay back upon the bed, unable to cease her tears and she wept. For Raoul, for herself and for Erik…Sleep took over and she slept in a dark long sleep without dreams.

"Christine…_Christine!_" Christine's eyes shot open as sunlight poured into her room. She woke to see her father drawing back the curtains. Gustave Daaé grinned when he saw her awake, the lines around his eyes more prominent and the gray in his hair beginning to show.

"Get up silly child! You have an audition today!" He said, messing her chocolate curls. She jumped out of bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawned. She could hear the faint sound of her Aunt Annie and Meg chattering downstairs. Groggily she pulled her corset and stockings on and attempted to tame her wild curls. As she stared into her full length mirror, the events of her strange dream came back to her and she gasped. It had all been a dream! _The Angel, the opera, Raoul, Erik…_There was no Erik. She hadn't seen Raoul de Chagny in nine years and recalled reading in the paper the other day that he had married and his wife was with child. Her father was alive and well.

There was only Christine, sixteen years old and preparing to audition for the Paris Opera Populaire. Her father had trained her meticulously over the years and they both felt she was ready to audition. She touched the portrait of her mother, Josephine which sat on her night table as she tied her hair back into a blue ribbon and pulled on her favorite blue dress. They hadn't been to Paris in a long while, almost two years and the last time they had seen the opera _Hannibal _staring La Carlotta. Carlotta Guidicelli had resigned as prima donna just recently after marrying and having a child. Since the opera was under new management, they were desperately seeking a younger woman so as to get more years out of her.

"What are you smiling for?" Gustave asked his daughter as she bounced into the kitchen and kissed his cheek, hugging him a bit harder than usual. He chuckled.

"It's just so good to see you!" She cried, remembering the dream. She hugged Aunt Annie and Meg as she sat beside her father, who gave her a mug of warm water. She made a face but he looked at her firmly.

"Darling, it is better to drink warm when you are going to sing." He said and she sighed, drinking it.

"I had the strangest dream last night Daddy." She said, looking over the sheet music of the song she was going to sing.

"Oh?" He asked, reading his paper. She set the music down, looking from Meg to Aunt Annie back to her father.

"Do you remember when you used to tell silly stories?" She asked and he looked up.

"Yes, of course love…" He said, confused and she sighed.

"Remember the Angel of Music?" He nodded. "Well I dreamed I met him, well sort of…and I was…" She stopped herself as all three of them eyed her. She realized how ridiculous she sounded and she bit her lip.

"Well, it was just a silly dream." She said with a nervous giggle. Her father raised an eyebrow.

"Christine Daaé, you and your silly dreams." He smiled, "You're just like your mother."

At noon all three of them headed into town and to the Opera Populaire. Christine had a small feeling of apprehension, though when they arrived, she felt no fear and surprisingly, led the way inside.

"Christine, you've hardly ever been here! Be careful not to get lost!" Gustave said worriedly as she turned around, her curls bouncing.

"Don't worry Daddy, I feel like I know this place." She said and nearly died when she saw the familiar male form standing in front of her. His light brown hair was elegantly brushed back and hung nicely at his shoulders.

"Oh my God…" Meg said, stepping beside Christine. "It's the Vicomte de Chagny." She said and Christine looked down at her.

"You know him?" She asked and Meg nodded.

"Well, he's our new patron…I don't actually _know _him." She laughed. The Vicomte turned and noticed the four of them standing there as a small smile of recognition came over his face. He began to stride toward them, his face radiant.

"Monsieur Daaé? From the seaside all those years ago?" He asked as Gustave looked at him, trying to place him.

"Raoul. Raoul de Chagny." The boy said, offering his hand. Gustave grinned in recognition as he shook his hand.

"Ah yes!" He smiled, pulling Christine's small form in front of him. "You remember little Christine surely?" He asked as Raoul looked down at her. She was blushing furiously yet staring at him as if they had only just seen each other. He took her hand and kissed it.

"Christine! How nice it is to see you both again! My God, it's been nine years hasn't it? Still telling ghost stories?" He asked her. She was unable to tear her eyes off of the gold ring adorning his wedding finger.

"I uh…" She couldn't find words so she simply smiled up at him as he beckoned for a girl with dark blonde hair to join him.

"Christine, Monsieur Daaé…I would like to present my wife Rachelle." He said as the girl kindly took both of their hands. She was heavily pregnant. Christine's heart hurt…only hours before he had been her fiancé and now he was married to this beautiful woman and expecting a child.

"It's so nice to meet you. Actually, Raoul has spoken of you both many a time!" She laughed, looking up at Raoul. "Please excuse me…darling, I must go sit down." She looked at Christine again. "The disadvantages of having swollen feet and carrying enough weight to break your back!" She laughed and Christine couldn't help but crack a smile. Raoul kissed his wife and watched her walk into the auditorium. Meg and Madame Giry excused themselves to go watch the auditions. Gustave followed them, kissing Christine's cheek and wishing her luck.

"So, what are you doing here Christine?" Raoul asked and she sighed, realizing they were alone.

"I'm uh…I'm auditioning." She said and he nodded.

"You always were a good singer…" He said and nudged her playfully, "Little Lotte!" He teased and she had to turn her head a moment to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Yes…so much has obviously happened since those days by the sea." She said as a nervous little man stepped into the lobby.

"All ladies auditioning…please step onto the stage!" He looked at Raoul nervously. "You know how he gets if we don't start on time." Raoul nodded, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you should probably…" He began and she nodded.

"Yes…it's been nice…seeing you." She said sadly and he nodded.

"Hopefully we'll be seeing more of you around here little Daaé." He said and kissed her hand before hurrying in to his wife. She sighed and felt the hairs on her neck stand as she was sure someone was watching her, but when she turned around there was no one but here in the lobby. She sighed and made her way to the stage, remembering the way somehow.

"Please state your name and the song you will be using to audition." The same nervous little man said as the five girls auditioning stood in a row. Christine would be the last to go since she had waited so long before going onstage. The other girls were dismissed as it came down to the last two. The first girl, a heavyset redhead stepped forward.

"Cécile Bordeaux." She began shakily, "I'm going to sing _L'abborrita rivale...Già i sacerdoti adunans _from _Aida._"As the music began a temperamental voice in the back called out.

"That aria is for a mezzo-soprano and we are looking for a soprano." The nervous little man looked back for a moment and seemed to converse with the manager until he turned back around.

"Er…do you have anything else?" He asked the heavyset girl.

"No, I…"

"Next!" The manager called as Christine strained to see the audience in the dim auditorium. She could make out Raoul and his wife along with her father and Aunt Annie. She looked over and saw Meg in the wings. She felt her hands begin to shake along with her knees as the girl ran offstage crying.

"What is your name dear?" The music director asked. She looked down and was pleasantly surprised.

"Monsieur Reyer?" She asked and he grinned.

"Do I know you?" He asked and she shook her head, cursing herself for being so stupid.

"Just…heard of you." She said.

"Could we _please _get on with this?" The manager's voice rang through the auditorium and Christine could tell he was irritated. Yet, he too seemed familiar though she knew it was neither M. Firmin nor M. André.

"Uh…sorry. I'm Christine Daaé…" She looked at her father, who nodded supportively. "I will be singing _Anges pur, anges radieux _from _Faust._" She said shakily.

"Go on then…" The nervous man said as she cleared her throat and stepped forward.

_Anges purs, anges radieux  
Portez mon âme au sein hes cieux!  
Dieu juste, à toi je m'abandone!  
Dieu bon, je suis à toi, pardonne!  
Anges purs, anges radieux,  
Portez mon âme au sein des cieux!…_

"Thank you, that will be all." The manager called and whispered something to the small man, who nodded. Christine looked nervously at her father then at Raoul and his wife who were grinning and talking quietly together. She could not fight the jealousy she felt seeing them together, but it had been nine years and she could not have expected him to wait forever.

"We shall discuss this matter with our patron and let you all know within twenty minutes time!" The little man said as Christine sank to sit on the edge of the stage as her father, Meg and Aunt Annie met her.

"You were wonderful!" Meg cried. Christine shrugged.

"I was so nervous I thought I might die. That manager sure isn't the most pleasant person." She said and Meg nodded.

"He is very particular." She agreed.

Christine looked up at the ceiling and admired the still hanging chandelier.

"It is quite lovely isn't it?" Antoinette asked, noticing her eyes. She nodded.

"It would be a shame if it fell, wouldn't it?" She asked and Annie looked at her strangely.

"Yes, I suppose it would be…" She said, looking at Gustave who only shrugged.

"Your hard work has paid off love." He said, kissing Christine's cheek. "Now, even if you don't get chosen, you know you did your best." He said and she nodded.

"Well, you taught me and…"

"Daaé!" The manager's voice rang through the auditorium. She looked up as Raoul eagerly motioned for her to join the circle with the manager and his assistant. She squeezed her father's hand.

"Well, this is it…" She said, trying to stop her hand from shaking. They all wished her luck as she tentatively made her way to the three men.

"Miss Daaé, it seems our manager is interested in your talent." Raoul said excitedly as he pulled her into the circle. It was very hard to see their faces in the dim light, but she smiled politely at all of them.

"I…thanks!" She said and the manager stood unmoved with his arms folded.

"Where did you train?" He asked firmly. She nearly leapt out of his skin. That voice…she knew that voice.

"I um…my father taught and trained me…"

The man crooked his finger at the small man beside him, whispering to him. The little man then turned to the waiting girls on the stage.

"Thank you ladies…you are all dismissed! We've made our decision!" Christine's jaw dropped.

"You want…you want…_me?_" The manager nodded, unamused.

"You were the best plain and simple…you start tomorrow morning at nine. Don't be late, I despise tardiness." He said and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. The small man shook her hand eagerly,

"I'm Joseph Buquet." He said and she looked at him confused.

"No you're not." She said…this was not the drunken, red faced man she remembered from the dream. The dream…it was only a dream. And yet, he did look as she imagined Buquet might have had he not been a dirty drunk.

"Beg your pardon?" He asked as Raoul looked down at her amused.

"I'm sorry…I'm a bit out of sorts." She said, rubbing her head. _A dream…just a dream…nothing more…_She stepped back into the lobby where the sunlight was streaming and ran to her father excitedly.

"They took me! They want me! I start tomorrow!" She cried as her father swept her up into his arms.

"I knew you could do it Christine!" He cried happily, looking toward the Heavens. "Oh Josephine! Your daughter!" He laughed as she embraced Antoinette and Meg who had to rush off to their ballet rehearsal. "My daughter, the prima donna."

She noticed the manager was chatting to the side with his assistant as she realized she did not even know his name. The Vicomte and his wife emerged as she yawned.

"God, it will be a blessing when I don't have twenty five extra pounds to heft around! You owe me Raoul de Chagny!" She laughed, winking at Christine.

"Nice to meet you Miss Daaé!" She called and Christine could not help but like the girl. She smiled back.

"You too Madame le Vicomtess!" She said and the girl shook her head.

"Rachelle!" Christine nodded shyly as they left. She bit her lip, feeling a bit of sorrow for a moment but remembered that pitying one's self is never the way to get anything done.

"Daddy…do you want to meet the manager?" She asked grabbing her father's hand. He nodded as she pulled him over to the two men. Monsieur Buquet looked up and smiled.

"Ah, Mademoiselle…may we help you?" He asked and she nodded.

"This is my father, Gustave Daaé. I just wanted to introduce him to my new manager."

"Daaé…" The manager said, still with his back turned to them. He was obviously reading over a contract. She looked at her father.

"Yes sir…" She replied.

"As in the violinist?" He asked, still occupied. Gustave grinned.

"It's been a few years since I retired but yes…" He said and the man suddenly stood taller.

For the first time, Christine realized just how tall he was, even taller than her father. He had silky, thick black hair which was neatly slicked back. As he turned, she felt her heart fall into her stomach. Their eyes met, his light green eyes with her brown eyes, but only for a moment before he shook her father's hand.

"It is really a pleasure to meet you sir. I have seen you play at numerous parties and concerts. You were one of the best! I'm sure you don't remember me, but I believe we spoke at the LaCoste's Christmas gala around four years ago?" Gustave studied him for a moment, trying to place him and then brightened.

"Ah yes! Of course! You're the famous prodigy of Europe!" He chuckled. "Good to see you again…how funny that you are now my daughter's employer. I trust you will take good care of her?"

The manager nodded, chuckling.

"Of course…we'll give her some food every now and then…" He joked and winked over at Christine who nearly fainted as she fell against Monsieur Buquet. He shook Gustave's hand and grinned.

"Erik. Erik Destler." He said and Gustave smiled.

"I think you two will be great friends." He said, nodding toward Christine who was looking frantically between the two men. _A dream Christine…it was a dream…Erik…Angel…_Yet, when their eyes met again she had to wonder. _Or was it?_

"How about we all get some dinner?" Erik asked, and when they agreed he turned, fully facing Christine now and the shock of his face nearly killed her right there…for, it was completely and entirely the most flawless, handsome face she had ever seen in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shall we go to dinner then?" Monsieur Destler offered to the man and his daughter. Gustave looked down at Christine who could only shrug.

"Christine?" He inquired and she nodded.

"I _am _hungry…" She said softly as Monsieur Destler clapped his hands together.

"Perfect, Buquet?" He asked, turning to his assistant who also nodded. "We'll take my carriage." He said and nodded toward the door, ushering the rest of them out before him. He noticed the child was staring at him, but when he looked her way she quickly averted his gaze. _Teenager._ Still, he smiled politely at her and hoisted her small body into the carriage.

The restaurant was one of the finest in Paris and most expensive. Not that it mattered to Gustave. His years as a musician had served him well and he would be set for the rest of his life. Christine was seated beside her father and across from the man she had never expected to see, but he existed though differently than she had dreamed him. She bit her lip looking at him and she had to say, she slightly wished he was the same as in her dream. This man in front of her had the same regal air and heavenly speaking voice, but he was cold and dispassionate. His eyes did not have the same fire they had in her dream, and his face…She found herself _missing _the uneven flesh that had tarnished his beautiful appearance.

Christine sat silently, toying with the food on her plate as her father and Monsieur Destler discussed music and business, mostly business which bored her to tears.

"Carlotta Guidicelli leaving was a blessing," She heard Monsieur Destler say, "She was past her prime having ruined her voice. She was only thirty years old but her temper made her so unpleasant that even the audience was beginning to react. Thankfully that Italian fellow came along, what was his name Buquet?" Buquet perked up at being invited into the conversation.

"Piangi sir. Ubaldo Piangi I believe his name was."

"Ah yes," Gustave replied. "I've seen him perform many a time. He was quite good in his day. That's Carlotta's mysterious husband who swept her off her feet?" He asked, nearly laughing. Ubaldo Piangi was less than a knight in shining armor though he did have a simple charm to him once you got past his arrogance.

"Is he still fat?" Christine asked without realizing what she'd said. Her hand clapped over her mouth. An amused smile played on the manager's lips.

"Christine Daaé…you must think before you speak." Gustave said, patting her hair. She returned her attention to her peas.

"How did you know he's fat?" Monsieur Destler asked and her head shot up in horror.

"I…um…M-Meg Giry told me." She lied. Monsieur Destler seemed to accept this answer.

"Ah…the little Giry. I'm quite fond of the Giry family. Antoinette and I knew each other as children you know. Her family used to stay near my mother and I during the summers in Boscherville." He said, smiling fondly at the memories, though it was a tight smile. Almost bittersweet.

"Oh yes! Annie's grandparent's lived there!" Gustave replied. "You must have met my wife then…she often traveled with the Dubois family. Josephine Rousseau." The manager nodded.

"Yes, I do. She looked very much like this young lady here." He said nodding at Christine, who put her head down to hide her blush. Chuckling the manager went on, "Of course, the girls were a few years older than I so they really didn't let me pester them much. Besides, my mother made me practice the piano for five hours every day and study for six." The smile left his face and suddenly it was there. That fire that Christine had remembered from her dream. It only flickered a moment however before returning to the calm collected man he'd been just a moment before.

"So, Mademoiselle Daaé will be staying at the Opera Populaire?" He asked and Gustave nodded.

"We live quite a bit away, just outside Orléans. Actually I am considering renting a flat in Paris for a bit. I don't like Christine being so far away." He said, patting the girl's hand.

"I understand Monsieur." The man said, taking a drink of his wine. Christine noticed he didn't eat much which explained why he was so thin, but he was not ghastly thin, only fit. His shoulders were broad and it was evident he was well muscled. "Has young Christine finished school?" Monsieur Destler asked and Gustave nodded.

"She was taught at home by myself. No finishing school, but she has the manners of a queen and the voice of an angel." He said fondly. Christine sighed.

"Daddy please…stop." She begged. Christine loved her father and she knew there was nothing he loved more than bragging about her, but she hated to be put on display like that in front of people she hardly knew. Gustave chuckled.

"I'm embarrassing her." He laughed as she put her face in her hands.

"She's a lovely child Monsieur Daaé." Monsieur Destler replied and Christine looked up at him. _Child._ She thought bitterly. True, she was a bit young to think of marriage but there were girls younger than she who had already been mothers and wives.

"Well," Monsieur Destler said after a moment. "It is getting late and you, young lady, have rehearsal at nine in the morning. I suggest you get back to the opera and get some rest because we have no time for sluggishness. You are the prima donna now and we need you refreshed." He said. She almost wanted to salute him but opted to nod quietly instead. The ride back was once again the three men talking while she sat quietly near the window. Sighing, she allowed the manager to help her down from the carriage and kissed her father goodbye before walking into the opera full of fear and anxious to see what this would all bring. She stopped in the lobby, admiring the beautiful artwork on the walls and the gold sculptures that adorned the room.

"Amazing isn't it?" A voice behind her said. She turned to see Monsieur Destler standing there and nearly fainted.

"Um…yes…it's nice." She said and he nodded. Why was he standing there beside her now, admiring the beauty of the opera with her?

"Well, would you like to see your room?" He asked after a moment of just standing there. Dumbly she nodded and followed him through the darkened corridors until they came to a room she was sure she'd been before. It was like déjà vu. He unlocked the door and as it creaked open, she suddenly remembered this room from her dream. It wasn't exact, but the vanity was in the same place. There was a changing screen and a full length mirror along with a bed. She looked back at the manager when she saw the mirror. He raised an eyebrow impatiently.

"Is it not up to your standards Mademoiselle Daaé?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No…it's perfect. I've just never seen a mirror like that before." She replied and heard him chuckle.

"Yes…it was built into the wall. This room has only ever been used by the prima donnas and you are the fourth prima donna to reign here." He replied and she could only stare at him like a lost child.

"Oh." She said as he gestured for her to go in.

"Do get some rest Mademoiselle Daaé, you have a long day ahead of you to prepare for your first role as Juliette in _Roméo et Juliette._" She nodded as he patted her shoulder kindly before saying goodnight and striding out into the darkness.

Standing in the doorway for a moment, she quickly shut and locked the door behind her before getting undressed and into her nightclothes. Her father had told her to pack some things just in case and would return tomorrow with the rest of her possessions. Sitting on the vanity was a libretto which had obviously been left for her. Pulling on a dressing gown, she moved to the vanity and sat, moving her candle so she could read some of it.

"_Ah! cruel époux! de ce poison funeste Tu ne m'as pas laissé ma part."_ She sang softly, remembering the opera which she'd seen in London. _'Ah! Cruel husband ! This disastrous poison, you did not leave me my share…'_ It was so tragic, this story and yet people couldn't get enough. It was almost as if they liked to see people suffer! She said her prayers before crawling into the bed and blowing out her candle. Still, she could not sleep. Her dream from the previous night kept eating at her.

"I wonder if there is an underground lake…" She said aloud and curiosity got the better of her as she drew her dressing gown on again and walked toward the mirror. The room was shrouded in shadows. For twenty minutes she pressed and pulled and poked at the glorious mirror, but it did not open and she was convinced that it was in fact just a mirror and nothing more.

"Ah well…it was a fun adventure…" She said, giving up and returning to the warmth of the surprisingly comfortable bed.

She woke to the sound of humming and opened her eyes to see a girl around her own age moving about the dressing room.

"Can I help you?" She asked, wondering how she'd gotten in.

"It's seven thirty Miss Daaé. Time for your bath." She said and Christine realized she was her maid. "Mustn't be late on your first day the girl said, ushering her into a ready made bath. Christine felt uncomfortable undressing in front of someone else, but the girl turned her back and allowed her to get into the tub. She helped her wash the long thick hair she'd always despised and left her to finish bathing before coming back in to help her dress. Christine had never had someone lace her corset for her before and the girl was an expert at it, although Christine had no doubt a few of her ribs were bruised.

Within forty-five minutes Christine was dressed and ready with fifteen minutes to spare. She let the girl lead her out to the auditorium where Aunt Annie and Meg were waiting for her. Aunt Annie held out a piece of fruit to her.

"Eat Christine. You can't go on an empty stomach." She said and Christine gladly accepted the apple, finishing it just before M. Reyer entered the room. Christine clutched her libretto. _This is it…_

"Hello all…our manager will be in shortly, he is having a meeting with our patron. In the meantime, let us all meet our newest addition, Mademoiselle Christine Daaé our prima donna to be." He said, winking at her. She held up her hand shyly, feeling the jealous gaze of many of the chorus girls.

"Christine…this young man here is Alexis D'Aubigne. He is our leading tenor." She nodded at the handsome man who was smiling at her. He couldn't have been much older than she, maybe twenty eight if she had to guess. He had dark brown hair and very pale skin, she thought he looked a bit Russian. He was tall and very fit. He had an arrogance to him that most leading performers carried and a sense of self assurance poured off of him. He was without a doubt one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on for he had an exotic type of beauty. His eyes, were very feminine while his nose and the shape of his face were completely masculine and his lips, though thin were bright pink, almost red.

"Alright! The first scene we shall rehearse will be the balcony scene. The ballet can practice in the rehearsal hall and the chorus may take a seat for now." M. Reyer said as Christine hesitantly met Alexis in the center of the stage.

"Don't worry, it's nothing." He said, draping an arm around her shoulders. She laughed nervously, but shrugged away uncomfortably, folding her arms across her chest.

"If you would both please open your librettos to Act two." M. Reyer instructed. "From the first that Juliette appears on the balcony." He began to conduct the pianist, who was playing the orchestrations for the time being.

Christine began hesitantly, keeping her face in the libretto.

"_Hélas! moi, le haïr! haine aveugle et barbare!  
O Roméo! pourquoi ce nom est-il le tien?  
Abjure-le, ce nom fatal qui nous sépare,  
Ou j'abjure le mien."_

Alexis looked amused as he began to sing,

"_Est-il vrai? l'as-tu dit? ah! dispèle le doute  
D'un cœur trop heureux." _

The rehearsal continued on and by the time they had finished singing through the first two acts, she was exhausted and thankfully Monsieur Destler interrupted.

"Well, I can see we have much work to be done. Alexis, you were flat in five places and that was only the first act. Fix it. Mademoiselle Daaé…" He began but she cut him off.

"It's Christine." She said quickly and he stopped as a few of the chorus girls gasped.

"What did you say to me?" He asked in a low voice and she held her hand up.

"I said, my name is Christine." She challenged and he looked straight into her eyes as he lowered his face to her height.

"_Christine…" _He whispered sending a chill down her spine, before he stood back up. "You have perfect pitch, the only problem is you have no soul. Your notes were dead. Perhaps Monsieur Reyer can work with you on bringing the emotion of the character out."

The conductor sighed.

"Erik! That is impossible, I've hardly the time to pull the orchestra together, much less give singing lessons to a girl who does not need them." Everyone stood silently, waiting for the consequences. Christine feared she would be fired. She watched intently as the handsome man thought a moment, touching his lightly stubbled chin before turning back to face everyone.

"Fine. I will work with her individually." He finally said.

"_What?"_ Came the reply from Christine, Meg, M. Reyer and Alexis. Monsieur Destler nodded.

"Yes. That should do fine. Daaé!" He barked as her head snapped up. "Be in my office at four-thirty this afternoon. No later. Understood?" He asked and she nodded.

"Perfect." He said, turning to the rest of the cast. "As for all of you, that was disgraceful! If you expect to open this show in five weeks, I suggest a bit more effort. No excuses. Rehearsal is dismissed for the day." He said waving them off as he always did when he was finished with someone or something. Christine could feel her anger bubbling over as her small hands clenching into fists.

"Easy girl, easy…" Alexis's deep voice came from beside her as he patted her shoulder. "Don't let him get to you. He's just an unpleasant bastard with nothing better to do than nitpick us." Christine turned to him.

"No he's not. He just wants everyone to think that." She said and walked away from him to go lie down for an hour or so before getting ready for her practice with the manager.

"Christine! What was all that about?" Meg cried, rushing toward her. Christine shrugged.

"I don't know…he's so…ugh!" She cried in defeat, throwing her hands up. "It's like one minute he's this perfect gentlemen and the next minute he's like…"

"A troll?" Meg offered and Christine couldn't help but giggle.

"I was going to say a beast, but troll is good too…" They laughed as Meg pulled her toward her room.

"Let's pick something out for you to wear to your lesson!" Meg cried throwing the door open. Christine laughed.

"Why should I care what I look like?" She asked and Meg stopped with her hands on her hips.

"Have you _seen _the man you're about to spend the afternoon with. Brute or not, he is probably the most handsome man I have ever seen!"

Christine shook her head with a smile. It was why she loved Meg. Her energy kept her sane. They decided on a lilac colored dress with little bows on the sleeves and lace trim on the neck. Meg pulled part of Christine's hair back into a matching ribbon and stood back to admire her work.

"You're so lucky Christine! You don't even need a speck of rouge, your cheeks are naturally pink." They both giggled, but Christine frowned when she noticed the time. Four-twenty five.

"I'd better go…thank you Meg!" She said, pulling her best friend into a hug. Meg shrugged,

"What else have I got to do? Besides try to get the attention of that Alexis…" She said and winked before fluttering from the room.

Clutching her libretto, Christine made her way to the manager's office and knocked on the door.

"Monsieur Destler?" She called meekly and saw him sitting at his desk with his back to her. He waved for her to come in and got up to shut the door behind her.

"Sit." He instructed, pointing to a chair which sat by an old wooden piano in the corner of the room.

"Has anyone ever told you to feel the music? To live the music?" He asked, sitting down and crossing his legs. She shook her head.

"No…I just sing. I don't know what you mean." She said and he sighed patiently.

"This is the story of Roméo and Juliette, two of the most famous star crossed lovers ever written about. Of course, it is fictitious, but there is so much emotion in this story. Happiness, anger, grief, loss. _You _are Juliette. The fair daughter of Lord Capulet. You have fallen in love with the wrong man…yet you will continue to love him through this story. The audience with laugh with you and cry with you…if you let them. You have to be your character…you _are _Juliette." He stopped to study her expression as she absorbed everything.

"Alright…I'll try." She said softly with her hands folded in her lap. He crooked his finger for her to come stand by the piano which she did and pointing to a line, he said with a glint in his eyes,

"Let's try from here shall we?" She looked at him in disbelief but nodded as he began to play.

"_Ah! cruel époux! de ce poison funeste Tu ne m'as pas laissé ma part." _Ah! Cruel husband ! This disastrous poison, you did not leave me my share…


	3. Chapter 3

"Perfect. I think we can call it a day. Go relax Mademoiselle Daaé." The manager said after an hour of practicing.

"Please…it's Christine." She said but he only smiled politely.

"If you don't mind, I would rather keep it formal." He said, standing and closing the score to the opera.

"You don't like me much do you?" She asked, feeling brave and he turned and looked at her, amused.

"I don't like anyone dear. Nothing personal." He said and sat at his desk, going through some paperwork. She folded her arms stubbornly and stood there staring at him. He looked up, annoyed.

"Yes?" He asked and she sighed.

"Nothing Monsieur." She said and left the room. He got up and locked the door after her before pouring himself a drink.

Christine walked out of the office and straight into the arms of the Vicomte de Chagny, nearly knocking them both over.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry!" She cried, steadying herself. He chuckled.

"Quite all right Christine...I'm actually here to tell Erik my wife had the baby today." He said and she smiled.

"That's wonderful Raoul! Well?" She asked expectantly and pride shown on his handsome face as he told her the details of his new son.

"Blonde hair and blue eyes. He was actually not a large baby, but certainly not small. Anyway…Rachelle is doing well. They're resting together." He grinned. She could only smile tightly, her heart catching at his smile and the twinkle in his eyes. He was even more handsome than in the dream.

"Congratulations Raoul." She said softly, touching his arm. "I must go. I am exhausted…I hope to see you soon though."

"Of course, Little Lotte. Take care of yourself do you hear?" He asked, kissing her cheek before knocking on the manager's door. Christine went to her room, emotionally and physically drained. Raoul watched her go with sad eyes. Such a sweet girl she was, and the way she looked at him, it was almost as if they'd never parted…no. He was married to Rachelle, he _loved _Rachelle. Still, it was nice to think about what might have happened had the circumstances been different.

"Chagny, why the hell are you grinning like an idiot?" Erik's temperamental voice came from his doorway.

"I only came to inform you that Rachelle gave birth this morning and I shan't be in for most of the week." He replied, undaunted by the manager's intimidating height and form. Erik shrugged.

"Congratulations I suppose." He said, detachedly. Raoul bit his lip.

"Thanks…it's a boy. Julian Raoul Georges de Chagny." He said.

"Wonderful." The manager replied sarcastically, taking a sip of his drink.

"Why were you talking to my prima donna?" He asked the boy.

"Christine?" He asked and Erik nodded.

"Mademoiselle Daaé, yes." He replied. Raoul smiled fondly.

"We were great friends in our childhood. Spent a summer together and kept in touch by letters some. This is the first time I've seen her since I was twelve." Erik scowled at the stupid grin on his face.

"Lovely…well, see to it that you don't distract her focus from her music. I don't need another soprano running off and getting married." He said, sitting at his desk. Raoul's mouth dropped open.

"Are you…are you accusing _me _of having designs on Miss Daaé?" He asked incredulously. "My _wife _just had a baby!"

Erik shrugged nonchalantly.

"Absolutely not! All I am saying is you had better not distract her with your silly memories and fill her head with fluff. I need a serious employee, not a girl with her head in the clouds full of nonsensical dreams." He replied. Raoul shook his head.

"Christine Daaé is probably one of the most serious people in the world when it comes to music. Why, the last time I saw her she was seven and all she could talk about was her damned fiddle!" He said as the manager raised an eyebrow.

"Fiddle?" He asked and Raoul nodded.

"Monsieur Daaé taught her how to play the fiddle, among the piano and of course to sing. I know for a fact she practiced every day for two hours. On _each _instrument!"

"You're very fond of her Monsieur le Vicomte, are you not?" Erik asked, reclining in his chair. Raoul nodded.

"You're Goddamned right I am. That girl is _very _dear to me, but don't you dare mistake my affections for her anything but that of a sister!" He said, his light voice becoming deeper with every word. Erik only smiled.

"Monsieur le Vicomte. Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or are you trying to convince yourself?" He asked, his voice calm as could be. Raoul let out an exasperated sigh and waved him off.

"I'm going home to my wife and son." He said, dismissing the idea and walking out the door, slamming it shut behind him. He rubbed his head with his hands.

"Goddamn loonies…Buquet!"

Christine slumped in the shadows of the lobby, having heard everything. _Oh Raoul…I so wish things could be different…_She thought, but smiled despite herself at the thought of seeing Raoul's baby soon. She looked at the clock on the wall. Nearly six! The idea of the secluded rooftop was appealing, the only problem, her dream had faded a bit and she'd forgotten how to get there. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember, to bring back the scene where she'd gone up there.

"_Are you alright?" Raoul asked, ambling through the crowd and grabbing her hands. _

"_Raoul, we're not safe here!" She cried, as he tried to shield her face from the horrendous sight of a dangling Joseph Buquet. _

"_Then where?" He asked and she thought a moment. _

"_To the roof…no one will be there and we can talk." She said pulling his hand through the backstage area and down the back corridor to the costume room…_

The costume room! Of course! Christine gathered her skirts and silently made her way backstage, running into Meg and Bella, another of the ballerinas.

"Christine! How did it go?" Meg asked, stopping her. Madame Giry stopped to look her way too.

"It was…interesting." Christine said and Aunt Annie laughed.

"Not the most pleasant man is he?" She asked and Christine made a face indicating that he in deed was not.

"He's mean as an old goat." She said and Annie laughed.

"You'd never guess he was only thirty-three." She said and all three girls stopped and stared at her with their mouths hanging open.

"Thirty-three?" Meg cried, "I imagined he was somewhere in his forties!" She said and Annie shook her head.

"I am five years older than him." She said and Meg looked at Christine.

"Oh…" Meg replied before changing the subject when she saw Alexis.

"Christine, we are all going out for dinner, would you like to join us?" She asked. Christine felt the heat of Alexis's eyes on her and it made her terribly uncomfortable.

"I…uh…" She stuttered as he sauntered up to them.

"Oh come on…" He urged, but she couldn't shake the bad feeling in her stomach.

"I'm sorry…I don't think so." She said, and pulled away from the group, moving in the direction of the costume room before any of them could protest.

Sure enough, there were spiraling stairs in the costume room which led to the roof. Pushing the wooden door open, she stepped out into the chilly September air, crossing her arms for more warmth. The ribbon Meg had tied in her hair had come loose and a gust of cold wind blew it out making her curls fly wildly in the wind. She walked around admiring the beauty of the statues in the light of the setting sun.

"You really shouldn't be out here without a cloak or something." A familiar voice said as she turned to see the manager standing beside the Apollo's Lyre statue holding her lilac colored ribbon.

"You startled me Monsieur Destler." She said as he held her ribbon out to her, which she snatched from his hands. "What are you doing here?" She asked coldly. He leaned against the statue, his thick dark hair blowing in the wind.

"Even heartless managers need time to think and it's so bloody busy down there…" He said.

"You're not heartless you know." She said, balancing against the side of the roof.

"Mademoiselle Daaé, do be careful…" He warned, seeing her teeter on the edge. "And I am heartless." He said. She shook her head, looking like a little girl as she skipped along the edge of the roof with her bouncy curls blowing in the wind.

"So you wouldn't care if I fell?" She asked, leaning over a bit farther.

"Miss Daaé…" He said, and she could hear him move closer.

"See? You do care! Don't worry I won't tell anyone." She said laughing and leaning back as she sat on the edge as she did. She must have moved too far to the edge because she lost her balance and began to topple backwards, screaming in fear and closing her eyes.

"_Christine!"_ The manager's voice came and she felt his hands come around her waist as he'd lunged at her. Trembling, she grabbed at his dress shirt since he was not wearing a jacket and allowed him to lift her and set her on the ground beside the statue kneeling beside her.

"I told you to be careful." He scolded, the worry now evident in his voice. She blinked the frightened tears out of her eyes and managed a smile as she sniffled.

"I told you, you cared." She said as he produced his handkerchief. He sat, sighing.

"Mademoiselle…you have hardly been here an entire day and already you've managed to drive me insane." He said, though he didn't sound harsh or cold as he had earlier. When he saw her shiver he put an arm around her shoulder and began to usher her toward the door.

"Come on Christine, let's get you inside…maybe some food. Are you hungry?" He asked, putting on the face of being irritated. She grinned.

"Actually I am." She said.

"What?" He asked as they re-entered the building. She shook her head.

"Nothing…it's just, you called me Christine." She said and he looked at his watch annoyed.

"Damn it all to Hell." He muttered, guiding her back down the stairs. It was quiet throughout the stage area.

"They must have gone already." She mused and he looked at her.

"Who?"

"Meg Giry and Bella Kane went with Alexis to eat." She said bringing a look of surprise to his face.

"And you didn't go too?" He asked. She shook her head, remembering Alexis's gaze.

"No I didn't." She said.

"So where exactly are you taking me?" She asked as he led her from the opera house. He'd thrown on his jacket and a fedora as he'd waited for her to retrieve her cloak.

"Well, you can't expect to find food in there. My house is just within walking distance." He said taking her arm as a father would take his child's arm as they strolled through the streets of Paris. Sure enough, not fifteen minutes later, they came upon a decent sized house. It was old and antique looking, if not a bit rundown. Noticing her stare he said,

"I am still in the process of fixing the outside up. The inside is very livable though."

They entered the house, hanging their coat and cloak on the hangers just inside the door. There was a decent size foyer leading straight back into the kitchen and to the right was the living room . There wasn't much decoration but for a few red draperies and some pictures. There were also ribbons and trophies hanging about on the walls and shelves of the living room.

"Wait here Miss Daaé. I will tell my housekeeper to start dinner." He said and she nodded, taking in the room as she looked around at a few of the trophies. Most of them said "First Place", but one medal read, _Prodigy of the Year 1850. _

There was a portrait hanging on the wall of a woman and a young boy, who she assumed was Monsieur Destler. She had light wavy brown hair and caramel colored eyes. Her facial structure surprisingly looked a bit like Christine's own, of course, they were in no way identical, but the way the woman's head was turned, Christine could see there was a similarity particularly in the smile.

"Ah yes, my beloved Mother." Monsieur Destler's voice startled her as she spun around. "Lovely, is she not?" He asked and she nodded.

"Beautiful." She replied, he smiled bitterly.

"Beauty can be deceiving dear girl." His voice was laced with ice. It frightened her to her core.

"Erik..." She began and when he looked at her she quickly corrected herself. "Monsieur Destler. She hurt you, didn't she?" He chuckled.

"Child, there is no use clinging to the horrors of the past. It will do us no good." He said and she tilted her head.

"I'm not a child." She said, making him look at her. He smiled sadly.

"No you're not." He agreed as his housekeeper interrupted.

"Erik, your dinner is done." She said and he nodded.

"Thank you Elise." He looked at Christine expectantly. "Hungry?" She nodded.

"So do you have a fiancée or someone?" Christine asked, as she eagerly ate the stew that Elise had made. He shook his head.

"No…I don't have time for women." He replied, disinterested in the subject. She giggled.

"I find that hard to believe." She said, and he looked up.

"I know… I am such a charmer after all. Quite honestly though, women are silly, vapid creatures with no passion for anything of importance." He said frankly and Christine sighed.

"Not true." She said in a singsong voice. His eyebrow raised.

"Meaning?"

"I'm not vapid or silly. Do you know I have read every piece of Shakespeare I can get my hands on, I know pretty much all there is to know about opera and I play two instruments as well as sing." She said proudly.

Monsieur Destler actually laughed.

"Miss Daaé, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were bragging." He replied and she blushed.

"Well I…" She began but he cut her off.

"What is your favorite opera, if you don't mind my asking." He asked, sipping his water. She thought a moment.

"I adore _Aida._" She said and he nodded in surprise.

"Most girls your age would never choose something so dark." He said and she shrugged.

"Love is the most precious thing in the world, Monsieur Destler. Only love and music are forever. Someone said that to me once…in my dreams."

He dropped his spoon.

"In your…dreams." He said skeptically and she nodded. "You listen to people in your dreams?" Grinning she said,

"You should listen to your dreams…you never know what they might tell you. Or who they might lead you to." She replied.

"You are a trip, love." He said, making her cheeks go pink again before he became serious. "I am going to take you back to the opera around eight. You must get plenty of sleep." She nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

Indeed, he did take her back to the opera and was home at eight sharp.

"Thank you for dinner Monsieur Destler." She said as he walked her inside the lobby. He gave her a small nod and his whole upper body tensed when she gave him a quick hug. He wasn't one for embracing people. Contact with other people was…uncomfortable to say the least.

"Goodnight Monsieur Destler." She said as she pulled back and he nodded once again.

"Goodnight Miss Daaé."

"Christine." She corrected, an impish smile on her face.

"Goodnight Miss Daaé." He repeated defiantly and walked away silently. She didn't see the smile on his face as he walked away, but somehow she knew it was there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Some elements of Kay...though not an exact retelling. I changed details to fit better with the story. Thanks! Enjoy! **

**Syd**

* * *

"Daddy! What are you doing here?" Christine asked, surprised the next afternoon after she'd gotten out of rehearsal. Gustave Daaé grinned.

"Well, visiting my darling of course, and I've decided to rent a small flat here in town to be closer to you." He replied, seeing Antoinette and smiling at her warmly as he always did. Christine looked at Meg, who was beside her mother with a knowing smile. Ever since Christine's mother and Meg's father had died, Antoinette and Gustave had stayed close to each other, lending support and comfort when the other needed it. Problem was, after some time an unspoken attraction, a bond had formed between them though both would deny it vehemently. Despite the girls' best efforts, both parents were extremely stubborn and remained in denial.

"Hello Annie..." Gustave said, nodding at her as he always did. She nodded back.

"Gustave..." She said ushering Meg into the rehearsal hall for ballet rehearsal. Christine folded her arms, staring at Gustave.

"Daddy, when are you going to face it?" She asked and he looked down at her, confused.

"What sweetheart?" He asked, kissing her hair. She laughed.

"That you're in love with Aunt Annie! Meg and I have been hoping you two would figure it out for years!" She exclaimed and he began to protest.

"Christine, Annie and I are not in love..." He stopped as her confession sank in, "You did?" She nodded. He smiled to himself but did not bring up the subject again.

"Christine!" Raoul de Chagny's voice came from the doorway. She turned to face him.

"Hello Raoul." She said with a smile, as he smiled back breathlessly.

"I've been looking everywhere for you! Hello Monsieur Daae." He managed to get out. She giggled.

"What did you need Raoul?" She asked and he grinned.

"Rachelle and I were just stopping in to see Monsieur Destler and thought you might want to see Julian." He said as her eyes lit up.

"Oh! Absolutely!" She cried, turning to her father. "Raoul's wife gave birth yesterday morning Daddy!" She explained as Gustave laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Congratulations son." He said, before following the boy to the lobby where a few of the chorus girls were cooing over the baby. Rachelle's eyes were warm as she noticed Christine and Gustave come out.

Christine peered into the blankets like a child who has never seen a baby with large sparkling brown eyes.

"Oh...my..." She breathed when she saw his fair skin and rosy cheeks. His eyes were open and he was calm with chubby little fingers. It was obvious he was going to be a carbon copy of his father. Surprising tears stung the corners of her eyes and she didn't know why, but she managed to hide it.

"Did you want to hold him Christine?" Rachelle asked her and Christine looked at her father.

"Oh, I don't know...I've never..." She began but before she could say anything else, Rachelle had positioned the baby in her arms. He had a little knitted blue cap on his head. "He's perfect Raoul..." Christine said, carefully handing the baby back to his mother. She noticed Raoul was looking at her as if wondering something about her. She smiled at him and began to walk away,

"Christine dear...how about we grab something to eat?" Gustave asked as he caught up with her. She nodded, wanting nothing more than to get away from the reminder of what could have been. As they walked out together, Christine frowned when she saw Monsieur Destler sitting at his desk with his head in his hand and a glass of wine beside him.

"Christine...are you coming? Aunt Annie and Meg are waiting for us." Her father said and she looked away finally rejoining her father at the foot of the stairs in the lobby.

Dinner was a rather quiet affair. Antoinette and Gustave discussed the progress being made at the opera and Christine's success as well.

"I think she will be one of the most remembered prima donnas, as she is the youngest and most talented by far." Antoinette said with a wink at Christine. Gustave, as usual shown with pride as he looked at his daughter. Meg and Christine each made faces at each other, trying not to giggle. By the end of the night, Christine was tired and completely ready for sleep as she said goodnight to her father, Aunt Annie and Meg back at the opera house. She promised to go visit her father the next night and kissed him goodbye.

Sighing, she walked in the opposite direction toward her room when she heard a slight murmuring. It was coming from the manager's office. Christine knew she'd be better off just ignoring it and going to bed, but her curiosity got the best of her and she found herself walking up the darkened stairs to peer into the room. To her horror, Monsieur Destler was sitting in his dark office, the candle long burnt out. He seemed to be asleep, his head resting on his arm and he was slightly smiling in his sleep. She tilted her head wondering what she should do, but more importantly what she _could _do. It wasn't as if she was strong enough to carry him somewhere. He was well over six feet tall after all and she was barely five feet seven.

"Alright Christine...think..." She told herself as she cautiously entered the room and started toward him. Hesitantly, she poked him hard and he mumbled something but didn't wake. Thinking again, she opted to clap her hands over his head as hard as she could. Still nothing.

"Alright Erik..." She said, and walked behind him, putting her small hands under his long arms and trying to heft him up. She did manage to get him on his feet and somehow stumbled him to the leather sofa he had in the office. Biting her lip, she looked around the room for something to cover him with and noticed he had a black cloak hanging on the coat stand. Shrugged, she took the luxurious material in her hands.

"This should do." She said, throwing it over him and looking at him one last time before leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind her.

She stopped, leaning against the office door outside of it and closing her eyes, trying to remember the simple elegance of the place he had called home in her dream. Where was that man? Was he really inside Monsieur Destler, or had it all been only a dream. Even her love with Raoul had not existed and made it hurt all the more to see him with his wife and son.

"Oh stupid stupid Christine...stop living in your head!" She scolded herself and walked to her room, vowing to create a life that was real and not some fantasy.

"Daaé?" Christine nearly fell backwards as the office door opened and instead fell right into Monsieur Destler.

"Uh...sorry...it's just you were...so I...and I just thought..." She rambled and he yawned.

"What time is it?" He asked and she leaned to look at the clock.

"Nearly eleven Monsieur." She replied and heard him mutter,

"Shit." She winced at the profanity but moved so he could lock the office door and throw the cloak around him. "Elise is going to have a fit..." He muttered and suddenly stopped. "I'm sorry Mademoiselle Daaé, did you put me on the _sofa?_" He asked in disbelief. She nodded.

"It wasn't easy. Believe me." She replied dryly. He looked at her in amusement.

"I'm sure it wasn't." He retorted and walked down the stairs with her. "Have a nice night Miss Daaé."

"You too Monsieur." She said and they went their separate ways.

* * *

"I want to do the death scene today." M. Reyer said to Christine who yawned in response and to Alexis, who looked bored.

"Wonderful…" He muttered. For two weeks now he had been trying to get the damn girl's attention. He'd even resorted to buying her flowers and Alexis D'Aubigne _never _bought flowers for a girl. Christine wasn't like the other girls here, at least in the way that she didn't fawn over him. It worried him deeply, for Alexis, among being a great singer, was very vain. She almost seemed bored with his presence, uninterested.

"From Juliette waking then." M. Reyer said, cuing the pianist.

Christine walked to the middle of the stage where the tomb bed was set up now and got up on it, lying down with her arms crossed over her chest. Sighing, she began to flutter her eyes and wake a bit.

"_Où suis-je?"_ She sang. Where am I?

"_O vertige! Est-ce un rêve? Sa bouche a murmuré!"_ Alexis replied, coming to her side. O dizziness! Is this a dream? Her mouth murmured! He grabbed her hand and began to sing as she woke up fully and realized he was there.

"_Roméo?" _She sang, fully alive now. _"Dieu! Quelle est cette voix, dont la douceur m'enchante?"_ God! Which is this voice, whose softly enchants me?

"_C'est moi! c'est ton époux…" _It is me! It is your husband…They threw themselves into each others' arms and continued the scene to the end where Juliette stabs herself and falls dead onto Roméo's body.

"D'Aubigne! You call that believable?" Monsieur Destler's voice came from the orchestra pit where he had sat taking notes. The dead Roméo sat up, as did Christine. Alexis scowled.

"What do you mean?" He asked and the manager raised an eyebrow.

"You were practically panting over her like she was a dog in heat!" He replied. "This is a love story…not a brothel." Alexis stood and began to protest.

"Monsieur, that is quite unfair! Roméo and Juliette are married, and attracted to each other. Surely there should be some attraction!" He said, looking at Christine whose mouth had dropped open in horror.

"Alexis please stop…" She whispered, wondering if the manager could control his temper. Monsieur Destler hushed her with one look and she shut her mouth.

"Fix it, D'Aubigne, or you will be replaced. That is all." He said and turned to the dancers. "Now as for all of you. Disgraceful. Madame Giry works hard on these dances…I suggest you put effort into it like Mademoiselle Giry here does." Meg blushed.

As Monsieur Destler walked away, Christine went after him.

"That was really rude you know." She said, catching up with him in the lobby. He spun on her.

"Really? You too can be replaced Miss Daaé." He warned and she stomped her foot on the ground as hard as she could, the heel of her shoe making a sharp echo throughout the room.

"Then do it. I dare you!" She said and again, he stopped and slowly turned to face her.

"Fine! You're fired!"

"You're lying…" She said calmly. "Besides you have no grounds to fire me." She said and he scoffed.

"You're insubordinate." He replied and she laughed.

"How so? I simply stated my opinion…is that how it's going to be _Erik?_ Everyone should walk on eggshells because you have a temper and could fire someone at the drop of a hat?" She laughed again, "I'm sorry to burst your bubble Monsieur manager, but you won't be getting special treatment from me!"

"You are…!" He cried at a loss for the proper words. She held her hand up.

"Careful…I will not stand for profanities." She scolded him as a teacher would scold her unruly student. He began to walk up the stairs, but she was right at his heels. "Look at you Monsieur…running from your emotions as you always do. Why? What happened to you that was so terrible that you no longer feel? Or should I say, want to feel?"

"Nothing! God damn woman! Would you let me be?" He cried as she cornered him, though if he really wanted to, all he had to do was lift her out of his way.

"Are you saying you're fine?" She asked and he nodded.

"That's _exactly _what I am saying!" He replied and she shrugged.

"Ah. So you wouldn't mind if I…kissed you?" She asked, standing on her toes and pouting her lips as if to kiss him. She had just barely brushed his lips with hers when they were interrupted.

"Christine?" Raoul's voice came from the foot of the stairs. She turned and smiled at her friend.

"Raoul…how nice to see you again!" She said, deserting Monsieur Destler to give her friend a hug. He looked confused.

"What is going on here?" He asked and she shook her head.

"Nothing at all. Just a little argument." She replied, looking up at the manager who had already retreated into his office. Raoul cleared his throat.

"W-would you like to walk with me?" He asked her and she thought a moment before nodding and taking his arm. They decided to go to the park and sit on a bench with a hot drink they had bought from a vendor. The day was relatively mild for late September so there wasn't a real need for a coat.

"How have you been Christine? I know we haven't had a chance to talk since we saw each other again." He began and she closed her eyes. _Raoul, why are you doing this to me? Don't you know how badly it hurts? _Of course he didn't. He hadn't a clue that every time she saw him it killed her.

"How are the baby and your wife?" She asked, almost with bitterness in her tone. He looked surprised.

"I…they are well…thank you." He replied in his gentle voice. Taking both of her hands in his, he began, "Listen Christine…I thought about you every day for years…I'd been so taken with you. Then when I saw you for the first time around two weeks ago, it all came back to me. And you are so much lovelier than I even imagined you would grow up to be. If circumstances were different, I may have fallen for you right there. I nearly did anyhow and that frightens me. Not to be confused. I do love my wife…and dearly at that…but it's so much different than my love for you was…is. Ours is a fond love, not a deep love. I have never felt for her the feelings you evoked in me those weeks by the sea and I probably never will. But I want you to know Christine, that I will never forget those days." He stopped, studying her expression.

"Raoul…I had a dream about you just before I came here." She said and he looked confused, but she held her hand up. "I know…it sounds stupid but I did. I dreamed that I was singing at the Opera Populaire and you came for the show and saw me. After, you'd come to the dressing room and we'd reminisced. Over the course of the dream we fell in love and even became engaged." She decided to leave out the messy details of the Angel of Music and the Phantom. "Then when I found out you were married and about to be a father, I will not lie and say I wasn't jealous because I was. But Raoul, all I'd ever want for you is to be happy. So, are you happy?" She asked him and he nodded.

"I am, I really am." He said. She smiled.

"Then so am I." She replied and kissed his cheek.

"I would like to remain friends though." He added as she ruffled his hair.

"Always Raoul…always."

* * *

_Charles, _

_Will you join us for dinner at Christmastime this year? Malcolm wants to know…I expect to hear from you soon. _

_-Madeleine._

Erik scowled. Even after thirty-three years of living she still referred to herself as Madeleine rather than his Mother even though that was what he called her and she still called him Charles. His given name.

"Malcolm wants to know…" He read aloud and snorted. Malcolm was his mother's second husband and had scarcely ever shown an interest in him, why should he care now? Still, he knew he should go, if only to see Emma, his thirteen year old half sister. With a great sigh of defeat, he grabbed a piece of paper and began to scribble a note.

_Madeleine, _

_I shall be there. _

_-Erik_

They never signed their letters with love or even sincerely, they simply wrote what needed to be written and mailed it on its way. Emma would be thrilled. He hadn't seen her since last Christmas and had left early because of the badgering of his stepfather. Erik had never met his father who had died a few months before his birth. Charles Destler. He'd been a master mason and an architect from what Madeleine had told him. From a very early age, Charles Erik had known he was expected to live up to his father's name. She'd been relentless with the singing lessons and the piano. Truthfully, it wasn't the music he minded, it was the practicing. Madeleine would stand beside him at all times and critique his every movement and sound. Never in his life had he heard her say the word, "Perfect." Never. Mostly, it had been, "Charles, if you want to win you had better start to show some effort. That was excrutiating." He'd been five when she said that to him before his first competition.

As he'd gotten older, she'd become even harder on him and took to smacking his hand with a switch every time he hit a wrong note. When he was twelve, she'd met Malcolm Hastings and married him within three months. At first, Charles Erik was grateful for the man diverting her mother's attention from him, but soon realized that though the man was civil to him, they had been plotting to get rid of him. One night, two years after Malcolm had married Madeleine, Charles Erik had woken up and gone into the kitchen for a glass of water when he found the brochure for the boarding school in England along with a check for tuition and his mother's signature. _She really does hate me…_He thought bitterly and quickly gathered his things and left a note on the table beside the check.

_Madeleine,_

_Keep your money…Don't try to find me…not that you will anyway. I shall return when necessary but never will I ask you for anything. _

_-Charles Erik_

Soon after leaving Boscherville, Charles Erik had taken all of the money he'd saved since he was a child and stuffed it into a bag along with his favorite stuffed animal, a monkey his father had bought for him before he was born and a few clothing items. He paid for a one way ticket to Italy and was taken in by a kindly master mason with three daughters, who'd seen him sitting in the train station alone.

"Che cosa è il vostro ragazzo nome?" He'd asked and Charles Erik, not understanding Italian, tried to decipher what he'd said. The man could see there was obviously a language barrier and sighed. "Siete bambino italiano?" He asked the boy, who figured he was asking if he was Italian. He shook his head.

"Français, monsieur." The man nodded,

"Francese di amperora." He touched the child's shoulder. "Venez, vous resterez avec moi dans ma maison." He said in French. "Quel est votre garçon nommé ?" What is your name boy? Charles Erik though a moment before replying,

"Erik."

For three years Erik lived with this man, Giovanni Macéo. Little by litte, he had picked up on the Italian language though the family did speak French quite well. As payment for living with Giovanni and his family, he began to work with him, learning the trade of masonry. By the time he was seventeen, Erik was quite skilled in this art and a bit proud of himself, but he hadn't realized that Giovanni's youngest daughter Luciana, had become quite taken with him. One night, two months after his seventeenth birthday, she had been waiting for him in his room. He'd stopped dead in his tracks seeing her lying in a filmy negligee, outlined by the moonlight. She was a year younger than him and looked like a woman of twenty.

"Erik," She'd said, moving toward him as he clutched his shirt in his hands not having bothered to put it back on after being burnt in the sun.

"Luciana, what are you doing in here?" He'd asked her as she ran her hands along his broadened shoulders.

"Erik, you've lived here for three years now, why keep denying our feelings for each other?" She asked and he pulled her away from him.

"Feelings? Luciana…when have I ever given you the impression that I have feelings for you? I mean, no disrespect, but I work for your father and it wouldn't be proper." He said and she pouted.

"You said I was pretty…you told me I was pretty! Remember on my birthday?" She asked, tilting her head and pushing her silken robe off her shoulders.

"Luciana…if your father knew you were in my room…" He began and she giggled, touching his lips with her fingers.

"But he doesn't…he's fast asleep and here we are…I am willing to give you everything Erik, if you'll only take it." She leaned up to kiss him but he held her away still, though his mind was a bit clouded by lust. A girl had never been this close to him before and was bringing about feelings he'd never felt. Her flashing green eyes were outlined by long dark lashes and her ebony silk hair was enveloped by the moonlight like a halo, making her look as divine as the Blessed Mother herself.

"No…Luciana…I can't do this…" Anger and hurt welled up in her eyes along with tears.

"I'm not good enough for you, am I?" She asked, turning away from him. He sighed.

"Luciana…It wouldn't be right for us to…I don't think of you in that way sweetheart." He said, trying to reach out to her and touch her shoulder. She jumped away from him and ran from the room.

"Luciana!" He called after her, but decided it would be best to let her sleep it off. He began to wash up and clean the dirt off of his face and chest from the hard work that day when a sharp piercing sound made him nearly fall out of his skin. Giovanni was at his door in seconds.

"Erik! Did you hear that?" He asked, Erik nodded, grabbing a towel to dry off with.

"The girls…" Erik said worriedly as they ran to each of the girls' room. Adele and Suzette were asleep but Luciana was not in her bed.

"Oh God…" Giovanni whispered as he led Erik outside to the front of the house where a few of the servants had gathered, one crying hysterically. Giovanni began to shake his head over and over again as they came upon the small broken body of the beautiful girl. She was lying in a puddle of blood.

"Signore!" The housekeeper cried, her eyes wet with tears. "She was on the rooftop…I saw her, we tried to stop her, but she'd taken your pistol. She took her own life." Giovanni fell to the ground cradling his daughter and looking up at Erik.

"Why…?" He sobbed as Erik bent to touch his shoulder. Giovanni looked back to the housekeeper. "Did she say anything?" He asked and she hesitantly nodded.

"Goodbye…Erik." She said as Erik brought his hand to his mouth.

"This is my fault Giovanni…" He said, backing away and running toward the house. "I have to go…" He said as Giovanni followed him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going boy?" He asked, "Why did Luciana kill herself?" He asked and Erik shook his head, tears falling onto his bare chest. Tears of anger, tears of guilt.

"She was waiting for me tonight in my room Signore. She told me she wanted to give herself to me and I…I…turned her away." He sobbed. Giovanni stopped in surprise.

"You did?" He asked and Erik nodded. Giovanni sighed. "Luciana has never been fully stable. Not after she watched her mother die of cancer. I suppose this is my fault for not watching her. Please Erik, don't go. I don't blame you…I should have seen this coming." He said, tears running down his cheeks. It was too much for Erik. He grabbed his bag of things and shook his head.

"I'm so sorry Giovanni, I just…can't. I have to go." He said and Giovanni grabbed his hand as a father would his son.

"Where will you go, son?" He asked and Erik turned to look at him.

"I don't know…"

Erik sighed to himself, folding the letter and placing it in an envelope before addressing it.

"Buquet!" He barked to his assistant, who came running into the room. He held the note up.

"Be sure this gets mailed…I'm going out for a bit." He said and pulled his cloak and fedora on before leaving the man to do his duty. He stopped when he saw the Vicomte giving Miss Daaé a tender embrace and frowned. _He'd better not distract her…wife or not. _He thought before leaving unseen by the couple.


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you have a nice night Miss Daaé?" The manager asked dryly when Christine yawned for what seemed like the tenth time in a row. Her eyes widened as she looked up at his stern form with his arms folded over his chest. He knew. He had to know. Sighing, he told everyone to take a break.

"We will return this afternoon, let's say about one thirty." He instructed and as Christine tried to make a swift escape, she felt his hand on her arm. "Get some sleep so we can get on with this Miss Daaé. Remember, you have no room for distractions here." He said and before she could retort he was gone. With a great sigh she headed for her room, almost thankful that she could take a small nap.

"Christine! What is going on with you today?" Meg asked, running up and taking her arm. Christine shrugged.

"I don't know…I did get in pretty late, but no later than I usually go to bed." She bit her lip. "I had trouble sleeping though." She added and Meg frowned.

"Well, get some rest. Maman and I are going to get some lunch. Do you want us to bring you anything?" She asked and Christine had to smile at her big blue eyes.

"No Meg…I'll get something on my own." Meg nodded and left. It was a very warm fall day and Christine suddenly wanted to enjoy it. The roof.

A gentle breeze warmed her face as she stepped into the sunlight. Her blue dress billowed around her as she sat on the warm concrete and gazed at the city. It was a bit different than in her dream, but in a good way. There were more trees than she remembered and a few more buildings as well. The buildings of course, looked totally different but she smiled because she could see Notre Dame from where she stood. The sun made her feel so content that she laid her head against one of the incredible statues which adorned the roof and closed her eyes, basking in its heat.

"Where the hell is Daaé?" Monsieur Destler asked Buquet impatiently as he checked his pocket watch again. One thirty-five.

"I-I don't know Monsieur…have you checked her room?" He asked and Erik looked down at the man.

"Giry! Marguerite!" He barked as the tiny ballerina flitted forward.

"Yes sir?" She asked meekly.

"Go see if Mademoiselle Daaé is in her room." He ordered and the girl gave a slight curtsey out of fear before sprinting in the other direction. She returned to the auditorium a few minutes later, white as a ghost.

"She's not there Monsieur." She said, looking at her mother. His eyes flashed.

"God _damn _it!" He yelled, storming from the room. He began to throw random doors to dormitory rooms open as he walked down the corridor. A thought began to form at the back of his mind. What if the blasted child had gone up to the roof again and had fallen off this time? He instantly turned around toward the costume room where the spiraling stairs to the roof door were. _Erik, this is what you get for hiring a child. A damned child._ The warm air hit him like an unwanted embrace as he stepped into the sunlight, blinking in the afternoon light. He was almost afraid to look over the side of the roof, but when he did there was nothing but people walking about below.

He'd forgotten how lovely the roof could be. It almost felt like you were on top of the world, God-like. How many times since he had come here had he sat on the Apollo's Lyre and just looked out at the endless sky. Something on the ground caught his eye behind a statue near Apollo's Lyre. A small foot. Without hesitation, he walked straight to it and found Miss Daaé asleep at the foot of it. She was curled on her side, with her head resting on her arm, her curls spilling over the ground. He couldn't bring himself to wake her. What kind of a monster woke a sleeping girl? As if she detected his presence, her eyes opened and she was suddenly staring up at him.

"You're late." He said quietly, turning away from her. Her eyes widened as she shot up.

"I didn't even know I fell asleep! I am so sorry!" She said, going after him counting on having to chase him down the stairs. Instead she ran flat into him as he sat on the ledge and to her surprise pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket.

"You smoke?" She asked and he laughed sarcastically.

"No I don't…" He said bitterly as she settled near him but not close to him on the ledge.

"Why are you so angry all the time?" She asked him and he looked over at her with an eyebrow raised.

"Darling, life does that to people…" He said, looking up at the sky. She frowned.

"Why do you do that?" She asked, a bit of annoyance in her voice. He looked back to her.

"What?" He asked and she crossed her arms.

"Why do you talk down to me like I am stupid?" She asked and he nearly choked on his cigarette.

"Sweetheart. You are a child. You can sit there and tell me you are a woman, but it wouldn't be true. You just can understand." He said and she stood, angry now.

"Can't understand what?" She asked, sick of it all. "I can't understand why the world doesn't accept people who are different? I can't understand that a mother could hate her son simply because of how he looks? That people who are disfigured and injured can be thrown into asylums and beaten because of the way they look? I am not blind Erik, nor an idiot! I've _seen _it."

He still looked at her sadly.

"Have you ever seen an innocent father with children taken from his home and killed for no reason other than to entertain someone of a higher authority?" He asked her coldly and she stopped.

"Well…no." She replied lamely and he nodded.

"I have." He said quietly, puffing the cigarette. "Have you ever seen people crawling, filthy in the street, begging you for food to feed their families. The look in their eyes, haunting you every time you close your Goddamn eyes?" He asked and when she didn't reply, he pursed his lips. "I didn't think so Miss Daae." She stared at the windows of the auditorium ceiling with her arms crossed.

"Miss Daae." He said quietly and she kept her eyes away from him.

"What?" She asked moodily and he sighed.

"You're not stupid." He replied. She smiled slightly.

"Thank you."

* * *

"That is all for today ladies and gentlemen. Thank you." M. Reyer announced after they had run through the first two acts with no stops. "Very good Christine...you are doing well." He said as she was walking out. She grinned at him.

"Thank you sir..." She said shyly and picked up her libretto before a shadow loomed over her.

"You avoid me Christine." She looked up to see Alexis standing there with a handful of daisies.

"Of course I don't!" She replied, appalled and taking the flowers. "Thank you Alexis. They are lovely." She smiled politely and began to go toward her room.

"You're doing it now!" He laughed, trotting after her. She turned to look at him, discreetly glancing around the room to see if Monsieur Destler was around, which he was not.

"I'm sorry Alexis...I wasn't trying to...it's just been a long day." She said and he nodded.

"Well, maybe you should come to dinner with me to let some of the stress off your chest." He said and as she was about to protest that she wasn't hungry when her stomach growled loudly. "I'll take that as a yes." He laughed, and directed her towards the front doors of the building, only stopping long enough to grab their coats. Monsieur Destler was in a meeting with Messieurs Buquet and Reyer so it was clear to go without the scolding of those stern eyes.

"Alright Alexis...but we can't stay out long..." She said weakly as he hailed a hansom cab.

Surprisingly, she had a great time with Alexis at the small tavern they went to. He seemed to know a lot of people there. She recognized a few of the girls from the ballet.

"D'Aubigne!" One of the girls' beaus called to him. "You finally came!" He nodded and walked Christine to the group of people.

"Gordon, this is the girl I was telling you about." He said with a grin. Her mouth dropped. He'd been talking about her?

"She finally agreed to go out with you?" He asked and Alexis nodded. Christine had a bad feeling but decided to ignore the hints that Alexis considered them to be a couple already.

"We're just friends." She corrected, extending her hand to the man.

"So where did you grow up Alexis?" She asked, as they sat in a far corner after dancing for a bit. He'd ordered ale for both of them and she eyed the dark liquid in the glass before her as if it held the plague. He chuckled to himself before replying,

"My mother is Russian and my father is French. However, I grew up all over. My parents are...were...both performers in the Russian and English operas so it seemed natural that I was to become a performer as well." He replied easily, taking a drink of his ale. She sipped hers, wincing at the bitter flavor.

"You don't sound like it was what you really wanted." She said, studying him and he shrugged.

"I don't really have much choice. I didn't go to a university or anything of such, so I can't be anything else. Once, only once, I pondered being a writer, but my Father soon put an end to that."

There was a bitterness in his eyes, distant, yet prominent. Christine sat back.

"You don't have to go to a fancy school to be a writer Alexis. You should do what you want." She said and he smiled, half a smile.

"I'm over it." He said and finished off his ale before starting on hers. Sensing he didn't wish to discuss his parents further, she changed the subject.

"So, have you ever been engaged or in love?" She asked and he shook his head.

"I've courted my share...but nothing past two months. Performing comes first, remember." He said. She frowned but relaxed when the conversation changed to opera.

"I've had a really great time Alexis, thank you for inviting me..." She said, checking the clock before walking into the opera. Only nine. Perfect. She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the cheek before running in the direction of her room. He smiled slightly before going to his own room. Erik pondered this scene from his view in his office. Christine and Alexis? He bit his lip but shrugged. It could be worse. It could be the Vicomte.

* * *

"I was thinking, Raoul. We could invite your old friend over for dinner tonight. With her father." Rachelle said, as she finished feeding Julian and set him in his carrier. Raoul looked up from the paper vacantly and nodded.

"That would be fine dear." He said and she sighed. He'd been so distant these past few weeks. He looked the same as ever. His long hair just reaching his shoulders and laying lightly. She'd always loved his mouth, the thin pink lips and his blue eyes. Her favorite was when he smiled, he had the slightest dimples in his cheeks. She remembered when he'd pursued her romantically. She'd wanted nothing to do with him, thinking him annoying but she finally agreed to one date with a chaperone of course and had actually grown fond of him.

He'd been so shy at first and reserved, but he finally came out of his shell after they had begun courting seriously. She'd always known she wasn't his first love but she knew the love he had shared before had been a youthful love. Nothing more. In fact, she believed if he became close friends with Christine Daae again, he could close doors to the past and look to their future. Yes, Rachelle was above all a nice person. One who genuinely cared for others and theirs. She kissed his cheek and warmed when he smiled in response and patted her cheek as he read the paper.

"I love you Raoul." She said, resting her cheek against his and he smiled fondly.

"And you know I love you Rachelle my dear." He replied, but she still felt uneasy.

As Julian began to cry again, Raoul held his hand up.

"Sit love. I will get him." He said and moved to the carrier to take out his son. She smiled, seeing them together, father and son. It was quite obvious that Julian would favor Raoul in every way. The baby fell asleep easily, favoring the warmth of his father's chest to the carrier. _See silly Rachelle...how could you doubt him? _

* * *

"Giry, what are you doing?" Alexis asked Meg when he caught her alone in the rehearsal studio practicing the part of the prima ballerina. She stopped, nearly stumbling.

"Jesus Alexis! Don't ever sneak up on a dancer like that!" She replied, out of breath from both fear and practice.

"Have you seen Christine?" He asked her and she bit her lip, thinking a moment.

"Actually, I think Reyer and Monsieur Destler wanted to work with her on one of the solos. Why?" She asked, crossing her arms. He shrugged.

"Ah...no reason. I just wanted to talk to her." He said and she nodded. "So...why are you practicing Sorelli's part?" He asked and Meg whitened embarrassed.

"I um...I'm the understudy...not that I'll ever get to dance it, but it's better safe than sorry right?" She asked shakily and he agreed.

"Certainly. But if I may give you a compliment?" He asked, looking for permission. Her blue eyes flashed but she nodded.

"You may." She answered and he took a breath.

"I think you dance it ten times as well as she." He said before leaving her there. She watched after him surprised. Alexis and she had always had a joking friendly relationship, it seemed strange that he should compliment her but she was grateful for his kindness.

"Juvenile! Can you believe it! He called me juvenile!" Christine's voice came through the hallway as she stepped into the rehearsal hall. Meg looked up at her.

"Who did?" She asked, untying her pointe shoes and placing them in the small bag she kept them in.

"Destler!" Christine spat. Meg nearly laughed.

"Why?" She asked and Christine sat beside her, crossing her legs.

"He said I was like an undisciplined child and should learn my place in his opera! _His _opera! The bastard!" She cried and Meg stifled a laugh causing Christine to scowl at her. "I'd just like to thank you for you support." She said dryly.

"I think you like him." Meg said and Christine looked up.

"Who?" She asked, not knowing who Meg meant.

"Monsieur Destler. I think you like him." She said again and Christine made a face.

"I most certainly do not." She said and Meg nodded.

"You do...but what is this I hear about you and Alexis?" She asked eyeing Christine who blushed.

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I agreed to dinner with him a couple nights ago and that was it. It was nothing romantic, nor am I interested in him at all." She added and Meg shrugged.

"Just wondering because he was in here looking for you." She said.

"Christine?" Madame Giry's voice came from the entrance of the rehearsal hall as both girls turned to look at her. She was holding a telegram.

"Oh Aunt Annie...I was just..."

"Nevermind child. This arrived for you." She said holding out the slip to her. Christine frowned, wondering who would send her a telegram.

_Dear Christine STOP I would love it if you and your father could join Rachelle and I for dinner at our home tonight STOP We will be eating at 6:00 PM STOP Hope to see you there STOP Your friend Raoul STOP_

"What does it say Christine?" Meg asked, trying to peer over her taller friend's shoulder. Christine smiled fondly.

"Raoul has invited Daddy and I to dinner tonight." Madame Giry frowned.

"Oh but your father is..." She stopped herself, seeing both girls had their attention on her. She laughed nervously. "Well, he mentioned he had...plans...tonight." She said and Christine shot Meg a knowing look.

"Plans Maman? Don't _you _have plans tonight as well?" She asked, nudging Christine who laughed. Madame Giry was visibly flustered yet, managed to sound calmer than she looked.

"We're just having dinner together Marguerite. We've eaten together many a time."She said, clicking her tongue and leaving the room.

Christine smiled.

"Well, I shall send word that it will be only me tonight." She said and Meg nodded, packing up the rest of her things and following Christine out of the rehearsal hall and heading for her own room as Christine went to send Raoul a telegram.

"And just where do you think you're going Daae?" Christine stopped, rolling her eyes at the sound of his familiar voice.

"What do you care what some _juvenile _is up to?" She asked, and continued walking but heard his footsteps behind her.

"I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. It was unprofessional and inappropriate." He said and she stopped looking back at him desperately. God, how she missed that damned mask.

"You had a fit because I said you aren't open to other people's opinions when Alexis's idea could have clearly helped to better the production." She accused and he nodded.

"I realize that now Miss Daae. Remember, everyone has their flaws. Mine just happens to be that I believe I have none." He said with half a grin. She closed her eyes, turning her head from that beautiful smile of his. Sighing she said,

"So you will consider having less people in the Masquerade scene?" She asked and he frowned.

"I will consider it." He agreed and she nodded, starting away again. "Where are you going?" He asked again and she raised her eyebrow.

"I don't believe that is any of your affair Monsieur." She said, not looking back at him.

"I apologized...yet you are still angry..." He said and she turned back to him.

"Not at all. I just don't think you should know every detail of my life. And for your information I am dining with an old friend tonight." She said and he darkened.

"The Vicomte." He spat and she laughed.

"You sure don't like him." She said and he shrugged.

"He's a silly boy...a spoiled rich boy with his life handed to him on a silver platter." He said and she frowned.

"That's not true. You don't even know him. He is studying to be a lawyer and he only has a small piece of his full inheritance which he will receive when he is twenty-five." Monsieur Destler chuckled.

"You are very fond of him." He said and she glared at him.

"So what? He's a genuinely good person, and a good friend." She fought and he crossed his arms.

"Who happens to be married." He added for her and she gasped.

"We are just friends. I would never want to come between he and his wife...especially since they had their baby!" He nodded.

"I did not say it was you who was the interested party dear." He said and walked away before she could say anything else.

"Oh!" She cried, stomping her foot. That man was so infuriating.

* * *

"Well, thank you for walking me home..." Christine said uncomfortably to Raoul as he stopped at the foot of the Opera's steps. Monsieur Destler's words had been running through her head all not. _I did not say it was you who was the interested party, dear. _Dinner had been pleasant enough though Rachelle had not been feeling well and excused herself early leaving Christine and Raoul to reminisce about their early friendship.

"I waited for you Christine..." Raoul suddenly said, sitting on the bottom step. She sat beside him.

"What did you say?" She asked and he nodded.

"I...waited for you. Until I was nineteen...then I began to court Rachelle after I'd lost hope. We did fall in love, but I kept comparing her to you and hating myself for it. Comparing an eighteen year old woman to a seven year old girl I had once known."

Christine took his hand gently, sighing.

"We have to stop dwelling on the past Raoul. You must think of your future and your son. And wife." She said and he nodded.

"I know I do. But I cannot stop thinking about how different things could have been." He said and she smiled sadly.

"Raoul, how can you move on with your life if you cannot accept it?" She asked and he looked at her suddenly and before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers and to her horror she was responding to his kiss.

"I'm sorry..." He rasped when he pulled back and looked at his hands ashamedly. She bit her bottom lip.

"I have to go." She said, getting up as he looked at her pleadingly. She could only shake her head as she ran inside all the way to her room. He buried his head in his hands.

"Raoul, you are a fool." He said before heading home.


	6. Chapter 6

It was hard to describe the incredible guilt that Raoul de Chagny felt upon returning home to his wife. She was already asleep when he came in and he was thankful for it, fearful that his face may give him away. He got undressed quickly and crawled into the bed realizing that Rachelle was naked. The scent of her hair filled him as he realized she had waited for him. He'd been wandering aimlessly for the past two hours. As he draped his arm over her side, she turned to look at him.  
"Raoul, it is past midnight." She said angrily and he nodded.

"I know…Rach, I am so sorry." He said and she smiled, kissing him.  
"I forgive you…how about we pick up where we should have begun?" She asked, turning into him and wrapping her arms around him. The image of himself kissing Christine kept running through his mind as he pulled away out of desperate guilt.  
"Rachelle, I need a drink…I'm sorry I just can't tonight." He said and darted from the room. Tears stung her eyes as she lay back down and whispered.  
"Oh Raoul, my love…will I ever be enough for you?"

Erik looked up from his desk to the sound of light sobbing. He set aside the bills he had been going through and got up to listen at the door. It was coming from beneath the stairs. Grabbing the first thing he saw, a cane, he took it down with him as the noise got louder. He followed it to the curve of the stairs and found the small huddled body curled up there.  
"Daaé? Is that you?" He asked, setting the cane down. She looked up, frightened.  
"Oh my God…Monsieur I did not know you were still here." She said, wiping her eyes frantically. He knelt next to her, inspecting her for bruises or scrapes in case she'd been hurt.  
"What in the name of Christ happened?" He asked, pulling her to her feet. She shook her head and clung to his shirt. He stood uncomfortably as she sobbed into the front of his shirt.

"Raoul de Chagny kissed me…" She managed to choke. Gently, he pulled her away and sat her on the stairs as he tried to control his anger.  
"God damn him!" He said, "I told him to stay away from you!" He barked, frightening Christine. She looked up, tears running down her cheeks.  
"You did? Why?" She asked and he looked at her as if she were incredibly stupid.  
"I do not need my employee getting distracted! I just lost a prima donna to distraction and now look. She is in Italy making babies with her fat pompous husband!" Christine sniffled, before replying.  
"You can't fault people for falling in love Monsieur…" She said, her voice raspy with exhaustion.

"Why not? Love is pointless…dear, no! Love is an illusion which we sing about and read about. Love is something authors created to keep their audiences enthralled. It does not exist."  
"That's not true…" She began but he laughed out loud bitterly.  
"You think so? " He asked icily. She nodded weakly. "Look at the reality Christine…do you ever hear about real life love stories? No. Henry the eighth, had beheaded his wife because she couldn't give him a male heir…if that's love then what is the point? Even stories end in tragedy like our opera dear girl. Roméo and Juliette." Christine looked at her hands.  
"Roméo and Juliette were not real Erik." She replied and when he gave her a look, she added, "Monsieur Destler."

"Are you in love with the viscount Daaé?" He asked, a bit harshly. She looked at him in surprise.  
"No. No I am not." She said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why? Would you be jealous?" She asked almost accusingly.  
"No Christine...this isn't about me...it's about you and I think it would be best if you didn't see him..." She laughed out loud bitterly.  
"You are the same twisted bastard aren't you?" She asked, rising angrily to her feet. His face flushed with anger.  
"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?" He barked and she put her hands defiantly on her hips.

"Look monsieur, I don't know what place you think you hold in my life but you are not my husband nor my beau and I will see whomever the hell I want to." She replied as he raked his hand furiously through his hair.  
"Forgive my observation Daae, but I have never tried to be anything but your manager. I am not your beau you are right about this, and I have no desire to be. Miss Daae, you are my employee, not some fantasy I hold in my mind. Forgive me, dear but I am not going to go home and pine for you like some lovesick schoolboy." She sighed.  
"No monsieur. It bothers you...the Vicomte bothers you. I don't know why...I also don't understand why you are so cold inside, but I am not going to ask. All I know is if you hide from the world, you cease to live...you're still young...there are no second chances...unless you make them." With that, she left him standing there with his mouth open.

"I'm sorry..._cold_ inside?" He asked, trotting after her. She nodded, not bothering to glance at him as she unpinned her hair.  
"Yes sir. You hide behind that mask of ice...there's a part of you just fighting to get out. A part of you that wants to be happy and feel things...I can see it in your eyes." She replied. He scoffed.  
"Do you even know what color my eyes are, Miss Daae?" He asked and without hesitation she stopped, still facing away from him and answered,  
"They're very light green with little flecks of gold and in the right light they almost appear yellow. They light up when you like something...whenever we complete a scene correctly I see it. Also, when you smile...I mean _really_ smile, there is a shadow of a dimple in your left cheek and a pinkish glow that comes to your face."

She looked back toward his dumbfounded face.  
"Is that right?" She asked coyly. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  
"Uh...that about sums it up..." He said stupidly. She nodded.  
"Stop hiding Erik. You can't change the past, but you can choose your future." She said, walking away from him, satisfied with herself.  
"Where are you going?" He called after her, she laughed lightly to herself.  
"To bed. Goodnight Erik." She said before shutting her door behind her. He heard the slight click of the lock as he turned to walk out.

"Monsieur Destler?" Joseph Buquet had come out of the office when he saw the frazzled manager.  
"What is it Buquet?" He asked, irritated.  
"You have a visitor." He replied nervously. Erik frowned. Who would be visiting this late at night? He walked quickly up the stairs and nearly died in shock at who he saw standing there.  
"Well, well, well...Erik Destler. I thought I wouldn't see you ever again." Erik stepped forward, shaking the man's hand fervently.  
"Daroga is it really you?" He asked as the middle eastern man nodded.  
"It is me. You look like you could use a drink." He said, as Erik picked up his cloak and hat.

"As a matter of fact..." He said and the man nodded. As they were walking out, Erik suddenly turned back and yelled up the stairs.  
"Buquet!" He barked as the man flew back out of the office in his coat and hat.  
"Yes sir?" He asked. Erik patted the Daroga on the backt.  
"Would you like to join us?" He asked in a friendlier voice. The daroga's mouth opened in shock. In all of the time he'd known Erik, friendliness had not been one of his characteristics. Buquet began to stutter.  
"Y-you're asking me?" He asked and Erik nodded. Smiling the man politely shook his head. "Much as I'd like that, my wife'd kill me if I wasn't home before daylight." He said and Erik, not knowing the man had a wife thought a moment before saying.

"Why don't you do something nice for her? How about you two take Box Seven for the opening performance of Romeo et Juliette?" He asked as Buquet's mouth dropped.  
"I couldn't, I..." Erik held his hand up to stop him.  
"Consider it a gift for her. She deserves something for marrying you, doesn't she?" He asked and Buquet chuckled nervously.  
"Right then..."  
"Goodnight Buquet." Erik said before leaving.

"Got yourself a new prima donna, do you Erik?" The Daroga asked as they sat together at the bar. Erik rolled his eyes.  
"More like an overgrown child." He retorted, sipping his beer. The Daroga grinned.  
"She's driving you nuts, isn't she?" He asked, his accent coming through his French. Erik nodded.  
"She always has to talk back and fight me on everything. She's starry eyed and lives in the clouds. She nearly fell off the roof once you know. I had to catch her." He said as the man gave him a look. "What?" He asked impatiently. The Daroga chuckled.  
"What were you doing on the roof with your young ingénue?" He asked as Erik narrowed his eyes.  
"Nadir…she came out once when I was having a smoke. That's it. The damn thing was raving about something and slipped. I think I had a slight heart attack." Nadir chuckled.  
"That's from the smoking, my friend. When did you pick up that habit?"

Erik took another long drink.  
"About a year before Carlotta left. God she was awful! But the audience loved her…it's enough to make me cringe." He said wincing. Nadir furrowed his brow.  
"How do you think Miss Daaé will be received?" He asked and Erik nodded.  
"Daaé can hold her own, I'll give her that. It's hard to say though. She could be great. She needs work though…and I don't have the patience to give lessons. Not that she needs them. She just needs to learn to take direction."  
"You do like her." Nadir mused and Erik shrugged.  
"So what if I do? Just don't tell her alright? I sort of like this love hate thing…" He said and Nadir looked at him.  
"Love?" He asked, teasingly. Erik looked toward the sky.  
"You know I only meant that as an expression. Don't put words in my mouth..."

Nadir raised an eyebrow.  
"Someone ought to put something in your mouth to shut you up once in a while." He chuckled as Erik glared at him. "Oh now...have some sense of humor."  
"You know I don't." Erik said moodily.  
"Bad as a woman you are Destler..." His friend teased. It never ceased to amaze Erik how much Nadir didn't care. He was most definitely the only person who wasn't intimidated by him. They'd met in Russia where Erik was performing as a magician on the streets for extra money after leaving Italy. He'd worn a mask on his face to attract customers. Everyone talked about the mysterious masked man who performed such dazzling tricks and people had their speculations of why he wore it. The obvious choice was the most popular. That he was horribly disfigured and people couldn't bear the sight of him. It amused him greatly.

Word of this mysterious genius traveled from person to person and it so happened that one of the Persian shah's servants were on a trade run and saw him perform, going straight back to Persia to tell everyone of the wonders they'd seen. The Khanum sent for The Daroga, Nadir Khan and had given him strict instructions to bring this man to her at once. Hesitantly, he'd left his dying son, Reza and had set off for the foreign land of Russia. He'd stood in the back as he watched Erik perform his nightly routine and waited until everyone had left before daring to enter the tent.  
"You perform well young man, how old are you?" He asked the boy who'd spun on him so fast he nearly tripped over himself. He was obviously still very young. The thick black curls of his flew madly around the startling white of the leather mask he wore.

"What are you doing in here?" He'd asked, caught off guard.  
"Sorry to startle you boy. I was sent by the khanum of Persia who wishes to see you perform." He said and breathed in relief, flinging the mask from his face. The Persian winced, afraid to look but when he opened his eyes, he realized the boy was flawless. Clean as the morning. He grinned with youthful mischief.  
"You expected something else?" He asked and the daroga calmly composed himself.  
"I um...yes...why the mask?" He asked and the boy shrugged, sitting in a chair and motioning for the man to do the same.  
"It brings in the customers...people love what they don't know...they love mystery...someone should write a story about a man who wears a mask...people would flock. Erik Destler." He said offering his hand.

The Daroga nodded, thrusting a large sum of money into the boy's hands.  
"That should be a satisfactory payment for your services." He said as the boy's eyes widened.  
"What is expected of me?" He asked and the Daroga smiled. The next morning, they were on the way back to Persia.  
"Tell me about your life Daroga." Erik said as Nadir thought a moment.  
"Well...my name is Nadir Khan, and I live in Tehran, where I am head of police. I have a nine year old son, Reza. He's very ill. My wife died when he was six. Rookheya. They say he has consumption." Nadir stopped and stared out the window for a moment, picturing Rookheya with her flowing black hair and ebony eyes.  
"I'm sorry..." Erik said softly.

Nadir waved his hand.  
"Well...all we can do is pray to Allah for guidance. Tell me about yourself Erik." He said.  
"I am eighteen years old. When I was fourteen I ran away from home and worked for a man in Italy...it...didn't work out for me there. So last year I left and caught rides with people and ended up in Russia. I watched this magician for about two weeks before I began to experiment. I originally picked up the mask idea so no one would recognize me. I'd won awards and things for my music, and I didn't want to be sent back home. Turns out the mask worked to my advantage and people took notice. I also began to do singing shows along with magic." He replied as Nadir frowned.  
"What about your parents?" He asked and Erik darkened.  
"My father died before I was born. My mother...we...we don't speak." He said and refused to say anything more.

Some weeks had gone by before they reached Tehran. Erik was appalled by the poverty and disrepair of the city. To Nadir's horror, the first thing he said to the shah was he would only perform if they let him redesign Tehran and bring it out of poverty. Nadir was certain he would be beheaded but to his surprise the young shah nodded and accepted the proposal. Erik had then been taken to the khanum who had become completely taken with him. She told him she wanted him to entertain her through the art of death and that he was to devise a torture chamber in which she would watch the victims die. As a child, he'd always been fascinated with mirrors and used his knowledge to build a room of mirrors, which would become heated and eventually the person would hang themselves. He earned his nickname as the Angel of Doom.

A month after he'd come to Persia, Erik was attacked by one of the many criminals in Persia. The Daroga had tended to his wounds and sighed.  
"Erik...I am going to train you how to defend yourself." He said as the boy nodded, his lip swollen and his cheek bloody. Erik had proved to be a fast learned and within six months was just as good a fighter as any of the Persian police. Nadir could do wonders with a rope he called a punjab lasso. He showed Erik how to wield it and use it to his advantage. It became Erik's weapon of choice.

Erik stayed with Nadir and his son, becoming close with the boy. He was a sweet hearted child with feminine eyes and a wide smile. His skin was almost a shade of chocolate and his eyes black as the night, yet there was a gauntness to him. It aged him to a shell of a person. Erik spent his nights entertaining the child, getting comfort from the sound of his laugh. It was rare that he would laugh without ending in a horrible coughing fit and consequently a puddle of blood.

To Nadir's horror, Reza grew worse with each day and by winter, he couldn't even get out of the bed anymore. He had to be carried to and fro. Nadir had lost weight from the stress and Erik found it harder to sleep. Most nights, he sat at the child's bedside watching worriedly as if his presence could stop the Angel of Death from coming for him. He sang a lullaby to him, each night singing something from a different culture. Finally one day just after the new year, Erik found Nadir in his library and told him to come into Reza's room. He'd deteriorated so he was unconscious nearly all the time.

"Nadir...there is no hope for him...he is suffering." Erik said softly as they watched the boy shiver in his sweat. His forehead glistened with fever and his face was nearly as white as Erik's own. Nadir shook his head.  
"There much be something..."  
"No. Letting him live like this is more cruel that letting him die." Erik said, holding back the sob that threatened in his chest.  
"What are you saying Erik? That we put him to sleep?" Nadir asked in horror. Erik produced a small vial.  
"This potion will put him into a deep coma before relaxing his body and finally stopping his heart. There will be no pain...he will go peacefully. He is going to die painfully in a pool of his own blood if you don't do this..."

"You are asking me to murder my son." Nadir said accusingly and finally unable to blink back the tears, Erik shook his head.  
"No Daroga. I am asking you to save him..." He said, finally breaking down at the Persian's feet. Nadir walked to the bed and gently wiped the line of blood running from his son's mouth, taking his cold hand.  
"Reza...I just want you to know I love you...I want you to tell your mother I love her still..." He sobbed into his son's hair, holding him and rocking. "I love you too much to watch you suffer..." The boy's breathing was ragged and halted and suddenly Nadir knew Erik was right.

"Alright Erik, I will do it." He said and Erik nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.  
"Lift his head..." Erik choked out, opening the vial of bluish liquid and tipping it lightly into his mouth. Nadir rubbed his throat to make it go down. The boy began to cough violently before suddenly falling back limply in his father's arms. Nadir held him closely, still feeling the faint beating of the boy's heart until finally the potion did it's job and his son's heart beat for the last time. Unable to take it, he laid the boy in Erik's arms and ran from the room. Erik began to sob. In all of his eighteen years of living he'd never felt such emptiness. Reza had been one of the most genuine friends he'd ever had and he'd only been nine. Cradling his young friend, he choked through his tears wishing he were the one who'd died,  
"I will name my first son for you Reza, I swear it...I swear it..."

"Will you have another drink Erik?" Nadir asked and the man shook his head, trying to get the image of Reza out of his mind.  
"I need to go...you're welcome to stay with me in my home." He said and Nadir smiled.  
"Thank you old friend, but I have a hotel room in town here. I am looking for a Parisian home though, so perhaps you could help me with that...and we could work on your issues with your young employee." Erik scowled, putting his hat on and walking out of the bar with Nadir. When he finally got home, he suddenly had an urge to see something. He crawled into the attic of his house where he kept an old trunk and, using a candle for light, he opened the lid, running his hand over the rough rope of the lasso he'd once used to kill and taking out the white leather mask. Brushing it off he secured it on his face and smiled at his reflection in the window.


	7. Chapter 7

"So how did dress rehearsal go?" Gustave asked his daughter as they strolled through Paris together. She shrugged.

"It went well…I think we are ready. Monsieur Destler said there was a seat for you in his box." She said blankly. Gustave smiled.

"Charming boy, that one…a good manager too, no doubt." He said, nudging her. She laughed uneasily.

"Oh Daddy…yes, he is a good manager. We are completely sold tonight." Her father looked at her for a long moment before saying,

"You like him…"

Her eyes flitted up to meet his guiltily.

"Who?" She asked, hoping he would change the subject. No such luck.

"Destler." He said with a gleam in his eye.

"Daddy…" She scolded, "He is a talented man, but he is about as approachable as a wet dog and arrogant enough for ten rich men." Gustave chuckled and put his arm around his daughter's small shoulders. He decided to change the subject.

"Oh Christine...you aren't eating enough. You're so thin...your mother was thin too...you look so like her."

"I eat plenty, Daddy. Believe me." She laughed. "Aunt Annie feeds me well."

"I worry about you Christine…it's hard not having you there when I wake up…I can't imagine how I'll be when you get married." He said. She sighed.

"I don't even want to think of it." She groaned pushing her curls out of her face. Gustave frowned.

"How I'll be when you get married?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, the actual getting married part. I don't even want to think it." He nearly laughed.

"Christine, do you have something against marriage?" He asked.

"No…I have something against men." She stated bluntly. Gustave finally laughed.

"Well…as much as I'd love to have you live with me forever…that's a bit melodramatic isn't it love?"

She turned and looked at him, sighing in defeat and not wanting to go over any details with him. She decided to just drop it.

"Yes Daddy…it is." Thinking a moment, she lit up when she saw two familiar figures crossing the street toward them. "Look Daddy! It's Aunt Annie! And Meg!" She flew toward them and grabbed both of Meg's hands, dragging her away from their parents.

"Daddy, we're going for ice cream!" She cried before disappearing into the Sweet Shoppe with Meg so they could spy out the window.

Antoinette laughed nervously.

"Gustave…I think we've been set up." She said, taking a deep breath. His blue eyes were sparkling with mischief as they always had. Meg had convinced her that she needed to get out before tonight's performance and told her to wear her hair down. She should have had some suspicions when she saw the two girls whispering at this morning's dress rehearsal.

"I think we have." Gustave replied to her, offering her his arm. She took it, silently scolding herself for wearing a blue dress. _Stupid woman…blue is for young ladies, not thirty-six year old mothers. _

"Antoinette. I must say it is nice to see you in something other than black…and you look lovely. Like a woman of twenty-five." He blushed after he'd said this and she lowered her eyes, embarrassed and flattered both.

"Thank you…" Was all she could manage to say. For years it had been like this. Skirting around issues and holding back on things to say and holding back feelings. It felt to her like someone was crying out inside of her to get out and live. He stopped suddenly, pulling her to the side where the girls couldn't see them.

"Annie, I think we both have some things to say to each other." He began, seeing the panic in her eyes. "How long have Philippe and Josephine been dead?" He asked her and she sighed.

"Ten years…" She said quietly. He nodded.

"Ten years." He repeated. "Ten years we have wasted…ten years we could have raised the girls together. We practically did anyways." He said. She frowned.

"That is all you would have wanted to be together for. The children?" She asked, hurt. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair and shook his head.

"No…that's not what I meant. We could have been a family. Look Annie, I don't know exactly when it happened, but at some point in all of this, I realized I was in love with you." Her eyes widened.

"You did?" She asked, and he nodded seriously.

"Not because of the children, not because Jo was gone, but because it was you. It was always you…even before I fell in love with Jo. When we were children, I loved you…I used to sit and wish you would look at me the way you looked at Philippe, God rest both of their souls." Antoinette was stunned.

"You never…I didn't…we couldn't…"

"I know." He finished for her.

"But we can now…the girls want it…I want it…so it all comes down to you. Do you want me? Forever? As your husband?" She almost laughed through the tears that were involuntarily streaming down her face.

"Was that a proposal?" She asked and he shrugged.

"Yes, I suppose so…why? Wasn't good enough? Would you like me to get down on one knee and pledge my love for you?" He asked, with half a grin and she smiled mischievously.

"Well, it couldn't hurt."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine and Meg fled from the Sweet Shoppe, practically tossing the money at the cashier. Meg nearly fell over Christine when she stopped dead at the sight before her. Their parents were kissing in the middle of public. Meg let out a small shriek causing both of them to jerk their heads up and notice them.

"Girls, we have some news…" Gustave said, and Christine looked triumphantly at Meg.

"What is it?" She asked, trying to look innocent. He grinned, knowing her looks.

"We're getting married." He replied and both girls threw themselves into their respective parents' arms and then vice versa.

"So, does this mean I can call you Mother from now on?" Christine laughed, holding Antoinette tightly. The woman nodded.

"Whatever you wish to call me love." Gustave, pulled the two girls together and smiled.

"Now, I am going to take your mother to get an engagement ring, so you two keep busy for a few minutes…" He said, handing them some money. Antoinette began to protest.

"Gustave that's really not necessary…"

"Of course it is…we're engaged. We should do it the proper way. I want everyone to know you are spoken for." He laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the jeweler. For a moment, to Christine, they almost looked like a couple of young lovers.

The smile on Christine's face fell when she saw a familiar carriage drive up. The Chagny crest graced the side of it. It was not Raoul, however, that got out of the car, it was Rachelle, who smiled warmly at her, sending shivers of guilt down Christine's spine. She knew she had done nothing to instigate the kiss, but it still ate at her.

"Hello Christine…Miss Giry." She said kindly, gently taking the bundle from the carrier in the carriage.

"Hello Vicomtess." Christine said, unsure of what to call her. Rachelle smiled.

"It's Rachelle." She corrected. Christine could not help but admire her grace and delicate beauty. Her lips were full, but her smile was not terribly wide. She had lovely white teeth and a graceful nose. Her eyes were somewhat closer together than Christine's but a delicate shade of ocean blue and her hair was almost a dark gold color. It was easy to see why Raoul had fallen for her.

"Oh dear…Christine? Could you take Julian for a moment? I've forgotten his hat and it's so sunny today." Rachelle replied, noting the baby's blonde curls. Christine nodded as Julian was placed into her arms. He was very alert for a child of just nearly a month old and to her surprise he smiled a bit. Meg was instantly taken with him and said,

"Just look at him grin. You see, he loves me already!" She giggled as Rachelle stepped back down with his blue hat.

"Either that, or he's left a present for me in his pants." She laughed and wrinkled her nose, gently taking the baby from Christine and checking. "Indeed Julian de Chagny, you have…thank you both…I'm still getting used to all of this." She said. Christine nodded, unable to meet her eyes and the woman was off in the direction of the baby boutique.

"Wasn't he just darling?" Meg said, watching them disappear around the corner. Christine nodded.

"Lovely." She agreed, and turned to walk the other way, right into a man's chest. She fell to the ground without hesitation.

"Miss Daaé, why is it we always seem to meet under violent or unhappy circumstances?" A voice laced with sarcasm asked. _Oh no…_She took the hand he had offered to help her up and hoisted herself off the ground. He stood with his hands on his hips, wearing one of his finest suits. He was being accompanied by the very man she suspected to be his Persian friend from her dream.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, looking at Meg who was smirking.

"Well Miss Daaé, generally when people live in a certain area, they tend to go out sometimes and buy things." He said as the Persian hit his arm.

"Erik! What a thing to say…this must be the youngest prima donna ever to grace the Parisian stage! Christine Daaé! A pleasure miss…" Christine was astounded at the man's near perfect French.

"I…well, thank you Monsieur…?"

"Khan…Nadir Khan." He filled in for her.

"And what are you doing out before a performance?" Erik asked. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"For your information, my father has just become engaged today." She said, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Oh?" He asked, "To who?" Christine looked at Meg.

"To Madame Giry, of course." She said, noticing the shock in his eyes.

"I…I didn't know they were…"

"Together?" Meg offered for him. He nodded. Antoinette had never confided that she and Gustave were sweethearts.

"Well, they weren't. Until today that is…" Christine said, seeing her father and Annie coming toward them.

"Erik! It's a surprise to see you here." Antoinette said, as they came to the girls' sides.

"You too Antoinette. I've only just heard the news…congratulations are in order." He said. "We will have a small celebration for you two at the gala tonight. We shall order the best champagne." He said with a small smile. "I'm glad to see you finally happy Annie." He said, before looking down at Christine.

"You miss, had better get back to the opera before the curtain goes up without you. Remember, you must go through make up and costumes." He nodded politely to Gustave.

"Monsieur Daaé, I trust you and Annie will be sitting with me in Box five?" He asked and Gustave nodded.

"Indeed…I really do not know how we can thank you for all you've done." He said, shaking the man's hand. Erik shook his head.

"It is _my _pleasure."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Can you believe the nerve of him Meg?" Christine asked, as Meg laced the corset to her costume. "Getting on my father's good side…he thinks he owns me." She said, staring into the huge mirror, feeling the familiar chill of being watched. Meg laughed.

"Well in a way…he kind of does. I mean he owns us all doesn't he? He is our boss."

"He certainly does not…I almost wish…I wish…I don't know what I wish." Christine said, sitting down. Meg shook her head, gently putting on one of her pointe shoes.

"It's almost like you know him…really know him." She said, tying the pink ribbon around her ankle.

"No Meg…that man is not the man I knew…" Christine replied as Meg put the other shoe on and walked out with her.

They did not know that once the door had been shut and locked, the mirror slid open and Erik stepped into the room. He hadn't been watching them…he'd only come upon them, surprised to find them still in there. _What the hell does she mean by that? Not the man she knew? When did she ever know me?_ He looked around the room at her things. Her small bed, and few dresses hanging in the closet. What really intrigued him was a small silver music box sitting on the vanity with a rose shaped piece on the top of it. Opening it, he found it played a somewhat melancholy tune if not beautiful. He noticed a few other accessories such as a hand held mirror and brush which both had roses on them too. Smiling to himself, he looked in the mirror.

"So Christine…it is roses you like."

"_Va! ce moment est doux!  
O joie infinie et suprême  
De mourir avec toi! Viens! un baiser! je t'aime!" _

Christine stabbed herself with the dagger and sang the last part as Juliette told Roméo she loved him with such emotion, half of the audience was in tears and the other half sat with their mouths open in heartbroken horror as the young lovers realized they were doomed. Alexis was extremely impressive tonight, showing just as much emotion. Christine and Alexis ceased to exist as the souls of Roméo and Juliette took over their bodies as they both sang,

"_Seigneur, Seigneur, pardonnez-nous!" _Lord, Lord, forgive us!

Roméo and Juliette begged the Lord for forgiveness as they both died in each others arms. Almost instantly after the last note had been sung, the audience was on its feet, whistling and applauding. Christine and Alexis took four curtain calls. It was safe to say the show was a success. As Christine walked offstage practically floating on air, she met Monsieur Destler's eyes.

"So boss, how did I do?" She asked teasingly, but with a bit of sarcasm in her voice. He remained straight faced with his arms crossed as he replied.

"You pulled it off Daaé. Good work." He said, patting her shoulder quickly before moving to speak with the Baron and Baroness something or other. Christine grinned to herself as she moved toward her dressing room to change for the party.

"Christine Daaé, may I be the first to have your autograph?" Christine turned around to see her father and Annie standing there. Gustave rushed forward and pulled his daughter up into his arms as if she were a child again.

"Daddy! Did you like it?" She asked. He chuckled.

"Like it? In all my life I have never seen a better performance in the opera!" He exclaimed and Christine looked at Meg.

"Oh Daddy, you're just biased." She said and he nodded, sliding his arm shyly around Antoinette's waist.

"You're damn right I am…but the rest of the people here tonight aren't and I will bet you they think the same thing." He replied. She shook her head, unable to take the smile off of her face.

"I should change…I will meet you all out there!" She said waving as they walked away. She turned directly into Alexis.

"Christine…you were…amazing." He said, already changed. He really was a handsome boy with his dark hair and eyes.

"Thank you Alexis," She said, smiling and squeezing his hand. "And so were you." He grinned looking around.

"Have you seen little Giry around here? Not that I care or anything, I just want to rub it in her face a little." He said and she shook her head. "Ah well…I'll find her." He said with a wink. In the short time she'd been here, she'd noticed a slight flirtation between the two of them, even though he had taken her out the one time. They were always thinking of ways to get under each other's skin. Laughing to herself, she began to unbutton her dress and walked into her dressing room. She was nearly undressed when she noticed what was lying on the vanity beside her mother's music box. A single red rose. Tied around it was a black satin ribbon.


	8. Chapter 8

Christine stood sullenly to the side of the ballroom as people of high Parisian society mingled with each other. Raoul and his wife of course were there as well as Raoul's parents, the Comte and Comtess de Chagny. Two of his sisters stood near their parents. Rosaline and Elisabeth. His middle sister had recently gone into confinement in her pregnancy and was the only Chagny girl to be married as of late. The eldest girl was engaged to an Earl and was preparing to settle in England with her new husband.

Sighing, she watched her father dance with the woman whom she would soon call mother and was glad at least they were having a good time. Meg was studiously ignoring Alexis as he bantered on with her and Monsieur Destler was nowhere to be found. _Coward. _She thought with a scowl. She planned to thoroughly confront him about the rose and speak her mind.

"Christine Daaé is it really you?" She looked up to see Rosaline de Chagny standing there grinning at her. She smiled, finally.

"It is…Rosaline?" She asked, making sure. The girl nodded, her light hair twisted intricately at the back of her neck.

"My goodness, it's been…well, too long." She said, taking Christine's hands.

"Nine years." Christine replied in agreement. Rosaline laughed lightly.

"Goodness…have you seen our Izzy? She's fifteen now." She said, pointing at the darker haired girl. Elisabeth had a somewhat exotic beauty with her mother's nearly black hair and her father's blue green eyes. The lashes surrounding them were startling black and her lips formed into full pink rose petals.

"Dear Lord!" Christine gasped, seeing the child. She would be startlingly beautiful before her debut to society. "When is her debut?" Christine asked and Rosaline thought a moment.

"Just before Christmas." She replied.

"Amazing…" Christine laughed and Rosaline grinned.

"I'll bet my mother would sponsor you and you two could debut together…" She said and Christine nearly laughed.

"Me? Debut into society? I am not looking for a husband." She said and Rosaline's mouth dropped.

"You aren't?" The girl replied, in utter shock. After all, what was a women's purpose in life, if not to become a wife and bear the heirs of her husband? Certainly she could not delude herself into thinking performing was enough.

"No…When the right man comes, he will find me if it is meant to be."

Rosaline's eyes widened in awe.

"Christine…you are so lucky…I've only met my fiancé three times and only once since our engagement." Christine was shocked.

"You would marry someone you hardly know?" She asked in disbelief. Rosaline looked at her engagement ring.

"There are worse things…he is a good man. Mother says it is just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor man." Christine gasped at the girl's response.

"Your mother wants you to marry this man for his money?" She asked and Rosaline frowned.

"She says that the rich must marry the rich and the poor must marry the poor."

Feeling a bit put out, Christine managed a polite smile and excused herself from the conversation. _Air…need…air. _She flew up the stairs in the costume room and threw the door to the roof open and stepped out, bracing herself against the ledge.

"It's just as easy to love a rich man as it is a poor man!" She bit out angrily. The thought of it made her want to break things. At the height of her rage, she kicked the stone ledge and instantly regretted it, crying out and holding her foot.

"Why is it, Miss Daaé that we always seem to find each other here?" A voice asked and Christine heard herself mutter.

"Damn."

She turned to see him standing there, staring at her with an amused, half smile on his face.

"It's…nothing. I'm sorry…I'll just be going…" She stuttered, gritting her teeth as the pain in her foot began to cease.

"Something is bothering you." He said and she raised an annoyed eyebrow at him.

"How would you know?" She asked and he chuckled.

"You said you were sorry." He pointed out and she wanted to claw his eyes out with her fingernails at that moment.

"Look, it isn't my fault that the women of this world are seriously being led to believe that they are the inferior sex and that all they are meant for is breeding."

"And you think they are meant for more?" He asked her, receiving a glare.

"Of course I think they are meant for more you dolt! I certainly was not meant to sit happily at home knitting for my sixth child and making my husband's dinner. I can't even cook." She said and he laughed.

"That's promising." He teased and she shot him a look that could kill.

"You'd never understand…you're a man." She muttered and he folded his arms.

"On the contrary Miss Daaé. I have never agreed with the fact that women are inferior or less intelligent than men. Several of the women I have met in my life have taught me otherwise. Including the woman who is going to marry your father…and your own mother."

"My mother?" She asked quietly and he nodded.

"Josephine…you look almost identical to her, but you're far prettier." He said and horror filled his eyes as he realized what he'd said. Her mouth dropped, and determined to bring back the casual atmosphere she said,

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment, but I'll take it. Thanks." She said, looking at her hands and down at her dress, a lavender satin gown she'd received for her birthday.

"Would you like me to take you back to the party?" He asked, suddenly sounding like a manager again. She shook her head.

"No…I just need to think…I need to be away from all of that."

"There is a place…" He said suddenly, surprising himself.

"A place?" She asked, looking up at him and he nodded.

"I use it to escape…" He began and before he could say another word, she blurted.

"The underground lake!" He looked taken aback.

"How can you possibly know about that?" He asked and she pondered her answer before saying.

"I've heard…rumors." She replied and he eyed her suspiciously.

"Would you like to see it?" He asked and she nodded.

"Oh yes."

Just as she had expected, he led her into her own room and locked the door behind them. She silently thanked the Lord that the maids and chorus were drinking themselves stupid in the rehearsal hall and no one had seen them come into this room together alone. Surely rumors would start and her credibility as a prima donna would be destroyed. She watched closely as he gently pressed his hand to the top corner of the mirror and the middle and heard a small click as the glass slid open into the wall. Striking a match, he lit the candle on her vanity and offered her his free hand. She began to shake her head and just follow but he insisted.

"Look…these tunnels are dark and winding. You could get hurt." She scowled at him.

"Fine." Placing her tiny hand into his large one, the warmth of him surprised her and she realized that she didn't want to let go.

They were nearly through the mirror when a sharp knock at her door startled her.

"Christine? Christine!" It was her father. She stopped.

"They will worry!" She whispered. He thought quickly before leaning down.

"Call out and tell him you are sick." He whispered back and she nodded.

"Daddy…I'm here! I'm lying down for a while…I'm feeling a bit under the weather." She said and heard him sigh in relief.

"Thank God! Rosaline de Chagny said you left the ballroom pale as a ghost! Get some sleep love…I'll stay in the opera house tonight with Annie."

"Alright Daddy…goodnight!" She made her voice rasp and heard his gentle footsteps leaving.

"You are a well seasoned little liar…" Monsieur Destler replied, amused by all of this.

"Shut up…" She said and realized the mirror had slid closed behind them as they began to navigate the damp, dark tunnels. They walked in silence for a bit before he finally said.

"You didn't just hear rumors…you knew this was down here." It wasn't an accusation, just a realization really. She looked at the ground.

"I did." She admitted and he stopped.

"How?" She rubbed her temple, before answering.

"I had a dream. The night before my audition…there was this…_man…_he brought me down here…" She decided not to go all into it just yet.

Destler laughed at the insanity of it all.

"You saw this in a dream? Yet you navigate it as if you've lived here all your life." She closed her eyes.

"You have no idea." She said dryly as they came to what surprisingly looked a bit different, though it was still a gondola. There was a brilliant blue color on the inside of it and there was intricate gold detail on the ebony exterior.

Within minutes they were there and though it looked pretty much nothing like it had in her dream, it was all still there. The organ, the drawings. Only the drawings were merely sketches of various buildings, costume designs, set designs. There was some sparse furniture and a small table but other than that it was quite obvious a normal bachelor simply used this space to think and compose. It was in no way a living space like it had been in her dream, but nonetheless, she was here. With him.

"It's not much, but it's quiet." He said, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"How did you…do this?" She asked and he laughed.

"Miss Daaé, I designed this building from top to bottom…" He set about lighting numerous candles he had strewn about the area. "You can have a seat on the sofa…" He said motioning to it. And so they sat awkwardly beside each other on the small sofa, her gown taking up most of the room. She folded her hands in her lap and bit her lip.

"So why did you bring me here?" She asked, taking in a drawing of a house. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I don't know…you seemed like you needed to get away…" She almost smiled.

"You never cared before."

"Tell me about your dream." He said, desperate to change the subject. She looked at him a moment and relented. Now or never.

"I dreamt my father died when I was seven and Aunt Annie brought me to live here. I was crying in the chapel one night when I heard a voice…Daddy has told me stories about the Angel of Music, which he had promised to send me and so I assumed this voice was the Angel." She said, unable to look at him.

"And it wasn't?" He asked but she simply continued.

"He began to teach me through his voice and I truly believed it was the Angel. Then when I turned sixteen, Carlotta, the prima donna…"

"Carlotta Guidicelli?" He asked and she nodded.

"That's her. She stormed out and left the managers to panic. By some off chance I was asked to audition and got the part of Elissa in _Hannibal._"

Christine went into detail about the night the Phantom had brought her into his lair and how she had unmasked him. She told him about Raoul and _Il Muto_, the masked ball and finally _Don Juan Triumphant_ and the chandelier. She explained how the Phantom had brought her back and forced her to choose between he and Raoul.

"I'd made my decision and showed him by kissing him fully on the lips." She said and Monsieur Destler gasped.

"Even though he was tragically disfigured?" He asked and she nodded.

"It didn't matter anymore…He let us go and told us to leave him to die. I returned briefly to give him back the ring and he'd held my hand and said 'Christine I love you' so sincerely I nearly died right there. I got into the boat and we rowed away. That night I received a note from him. Then I woke up."

Monsieur Destler didn't reply right away, but sat simply thinking on the entirety of this story. An hour and a half had passed and she'd ended up sitting facing him on the sofa. One thing was eating at him.

"Miss Daaé…this man…" He began and she raised her eyebrows.

"What about him?" She asked, and he pursed his lips for a moment.

"It was me, wasn't it?" He asked and her mouth dropped for she hadn't given him the Phantom's name. "Wasn't it?" He asked again and she only gave a slight nod.

"How did you know?" She asked him and he silently got up off the sofa and walked behind the organ. He lifted a large black leather book and placed it on her lap.

"If you would be so kind, Miss Daaé, to read the title to me. It is on the first page inside this book."

Carefully, she opened the book and though she expected it, she still shook as she read.

"D-Don Juan Triumphant: A Tragedy…bleeding Christ." She whispered and he gave a nod.

"Indeed. Only if you will flip through it, you shall see it is unfinished and a bit different from the way you described. There is no Aminta…her name was Araminta…so similar it could be the same name…as both are variations of each other. It seems Miss Daaé for whatever reason, your dreams mean something, though what I am not sure."

"Or perhaps I am just crazy." She offered and he looked at her as though she were insane.

"Perhaps."

"Or maybe…you have a gift…the gift of a splendid imagination…which surely I would be honored to have the assistance of in this opera. I have been working on it for the past five years after all. Without success…" He began and it was her turn to look at him as if he'd lost his marbles.

"You want to be my friend?" She asked incredulously and he nodded in reply. She stood. "The noble and great Erik Destler wants to become my ally? There will be conditions Destler." She warned and he narrowed his eyes.

"Of what sort Miss Daaé?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

"You will hear my opinion whether you want to or not and I will not be scolded for it. I will be treated as an equal. I am not interested in money, nor will I request a raise in salary. You _will _be courteous to me and to everyone…including the chorus. Which means, constructive criticism, not disdain. You will be patient, kind and encouraging…" She stood back and watched the disbelief in his eyes turn to irritation.

"Why not just lace me up into a corset and curl my hair into ringlets?" He asked and she crossed her arms.

"I will not tolerate your sarcasm nor your attitude towards women." She began to storm toward the gondola when his hand wrapped around her arm.

"I apologize…I will…try…to improve my social skills and leadership as long as you will promise to remember that I am in charge of this foundation and truly have its best interests at heart." He said and she stopped.

"I promise." She replied and suddenly they both realized that at some point, they had come face to face. There was a faint familiar fragrance coming off of her skin and he'd suddenly become intensely aware of it.

"What is that smell?" He asked, horrified at the husky tone of his voice. She became confused.

"What smell…oh! I bathed with rose oil…my father got it from a trade merchant when he was in London last year…it's a bit much isn't it?" He sighed. Rose oil…most likely made in Persia.

"No…it's fine…I just…thought it smelled familiar…" He said, trying to keep his head level. It was driving him mad…staring at that rose scented space between her neck and her collarbone. He wanted to taste it…he suddenly wanted to feel her skin beneath his hand.

"Monsieur Destler? You're looking at me as if you want to eat me…" She said, backing away slowly. He stood straight then, sobering.

"I'm fine…just a moment of dizziness…I think we should get you back to your room…performance tomorrow…" He muttered. As he stood in the doorway to her room, he eyed the rose he'd laid on her vanity earlier and hated himself for doing it. It was a temporary moment of insanity and it would happen again. He just had to make sure he was never in a room alone with Miss Daaé again or he wasn't sure whether he would be able to control himself.

She gave him a quick friendly embrace and a kiss on the cheek before he fled the room as if he had been burned. Leaving the opera house, he stormed into the first bar he saw and sat down.

"What can I do for you…"

"Whiskey. A lot of it. _Now_."


	9. Chapter 9

The performers who were brushing up and preparing for the night's performance looked up in surprise when their normally well kept manager walked in with his Jacket open, his tie loose, shirt untucked and thick black hair wild, a few gasps could be heard. Joseph Buquet, seeing this instantly rushed to the man's side.

"Are you alright?" He asked and the manager nodded, yawning. Buquet couldn't help noticing the dark circles beneath Monsieur Destler's eyes.

"Fine. Just a bit out of sorts today." He said, scanning the room and scowling when he only saw ballerinas and chorus.

Without another word, he turned and left them to their preparations as he made his way down the darkened corridor of the dressing rooms and dormitories. The light spilled into the hall from Christine's room and he could hear the little Giry's tiny voice giggling with her. They were singing a light song together and laughing hysterically. It was the type of song children sang together and giggled at the silliness of it. Little Giry surprisingly had a sweet little singing voice. Not strong enough to be a prima donna or even an understudy to one, but with some work she could be a strong mezzo-soprano. Especially since he wanted to do _Aida_ next and she would be a great Amneris.

"Oh Meg!" Christine's voice came softly after they finished singing, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course Christine." The small voice replied.

"I've met someone." Christine said and Erik could hear Meg gasp.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you…no one can know and you must promise that you won't utter a word. Please Meg promise!" Christine cried worriedly and Meg replied.

"Of course! I would never." Erik frowned. She'd _met _someone. Here he was finally opening up to someone and she's met someone. Not that he wanted to become romantically involved with anyone, but if she'd met someone, eventually she would abandon their friendship. Well, more or less temporary truce agreement, but still.

Sighing, he walked away and opted to go through some documents in his office. Buquet had set his mail on the desk. With a scowl, he opened the top letter. It was from his mother. Damn.

_Charles, _

_We shall expect you for Christmas then. I read the reviews of your new soprano. A bit young, don't you think? I will set two places at the table in the fervent hope that you bring a companion. A fiancée perhaps? It's high time you were thinking of marriage and family Charles. You're not getting any younger. We shall see you soon. _

_Madeleine_

"Thank you for your faith Madame." He bit out, ripping the letter and tossing it aside before scrawling a fast reply.

_Madeleine_

_Thank you for your opinion. I am sure you will be surprised to know I have no trouble meeting women, I just have yet to find the right woman for me. Give Emma my love. _

_  
Erik_

"You look unhappy." Erik looked up to see Christine standing there with her cloak on, grinning like an idiot. However, he was in no mood for giggles.

"My, but you're observant." He said and went back to sealing the envelope. To his utter shock, she came in and sat on the edge of the desk.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked and he shook his head.

"I'd rather not Miss Daaé." She patted his arm.

"Daddy always says, no matter how bad things are, talking about it makes you feel better." He said, nearly laughing at her innocence.

"I am afraid that won't help my situation." He said bitterly and she shook her head.

"My goodness…that bad?" She asked, and he nodded.

"But don't worry yourself about me. Go out and meet friends." He thought of this person she had met. What did he look like? How old was he? Was he good enough for her? Of course, it was none of his affair who she spent her days with. That was entirely her father's problem.

"If it's all the same Monsieur, I'd rather stay here with you." She said, playing with the crystal paperweight on his desk and grinning when the light hit it and an array of colors flew across the room.

"What a funny little thing." She said turning it around. He took it gently from her and placed it upright so the colors were more apparent.

"It's a prism Miss Daaé. When the light goes through it just right it is separated into seven colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet."

"It's beautiful." She said, putting her hand into the rainbow of colors. He looked up at her face, filled with youthful joy.

"It certainly is…" He replied.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The performance went on without a hitch again and since there was no gala tonight, everyone just decided to divide themselves into their own little groups. Alexis of course asked Meg if she wanted to go and get something to eat with him. She told him to get lost, but when her mother told her to be polite she changed her mind and went with him. Christine was left alone when she turned down her father's offer to take she and Annie out since Meg was occupied. Something in her just didn't feel like going out. Changing out of her costume and into her dressing gown, she decided to curl up with a novel in her room.

This one was about a girl who tries to help a man get in the sights of her best friend and ends up falling in love with the man even though she herself is engaged. The man finally realizes that he loves her as well and has to race to the church before she marries the wrong man. She was almost to the part where the man's relationship with the best friend fell apart when a knock at her door nearly made her fall out of her chair.

"Who is it?" She called, marking her place and closing the book.

"It's Monsieur Destler…uh…Erik." She looked at her clock which read that it was nine thirty and unlatched her door.

"I um…" He said and she stifled a giggle at his unkempt look.

"Can I help you sir?" She asked and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I'm surprised you're in…" He said and she shrugged.

"I am not much for going out." She admitted.

"I just thought…I mean you said…"

She looked confused.

"I said what?" She asked and he sighed, defeated.

"You told Miss Giry you'd met someone." He said, embarrassed and she clasped her hands together.

"You were eavesdropping on me Monsieur?" She asked, almost amused. He shrugged.

"Well, I hadn't meant to. I walked to your room at an unfortunate time and you were explaining this to Miss Giry." Christine pursed her lips and sat down again, offering him the chair.

"Well, you heard correctly Monsieur. I did meet someone…"

"Not the Vicomte de Chagny?" He asked in disgust and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Heavens of course not! I will not trifle with married men."

"Who then?" He asked and she crossed her arms.

"Not that it is any of your business sir, but I never said I met someone romantically. How do you know that it is a girl I have befriended?" He nodded.

"I don't…other than you would have said, I made a friend instead of I met someone. You are right it isn't any of my business and I shall leave you to your…"

"It's you, you dolt!" She yelled as he began to walk out. Calming down she said it again looking at her hands. "It was you."

"Oh." He said and she nodded.

"I didn't mean it like that though…I couldn't just flat out say, 'Well Meg, the manager and I came to some sort of understanding five stories under the opera house last night'. She would have thought me daft!" Christine cried and he gave a small shrug.

"Well you are a bit loony."

"Shut up." She said moodily, sitting with her arms. They were standing in her doorway now, both refusing to budge from their place. "Why did you want to know?" She asked after a while.

"Excuse me?" He asked and she stared defiantly up at him.

"Why did you ask?" She said again and he shook his head.

"This is ridiculous…" He replied, not wanting to answer the question.

"You are attracted to me." She said, and his eyes darkened.

"Oh come off of it, Miss Daaé, you flatter yourself." He shot back. She crossed her arms, the he had his as he leaned against the door frame.

"Then surely you won't mind my doing this…" She said and balancing gracefully on her toes, she leaned up and pressed the softest, quick kiss to his lips and drew back immediately to observe his expression.

His face was bright pink, his jaw clenched. She nodded, satisfied.

"I knew it." She said and he scowled as she tried to walk back into the room, grabbing her arm and whirling her about so it was his turn to press her against the opposite door frame and his her. Her eyes widened at his kiss, for he was much more expert at it now then he had been in the dream. His tongue darted about her mouth skillfully, making her knees weaken against him. Feeling her weakness, his arm came around her waist and held her steadily there. He stopped, resting his forehead on hers.

"Christine we have to stop. You don't understand…if we don't I am liable to take you right here in your room."

"Then do it." She gasped, and he sobered all of a sudden, setting her lightly to her feet again.

"No. I won't. You're a very trusting young woman, Christine and I won't take advantage of you when you don't even know me." He said, making her smile.

"But I want to know you Erik. I want to know everything about you." She said, taking his hand. He kissed her knuckles.

"No you don't." He said, stiffening, but keeping his hand in hers. She shut her door and locked it.

"Please…tell me something, anything." She begged, sitting on the bed beside him. He sighed in defeat.

"I grew up in Boscherville. My mother hated me." He said, observing her for a reaction, which she didn't give.

"Why would your mother hate you Erik?" She asked and he shrugged.

"Who the hell knows? My father died in an accident just before I was born and she always resented me, punishing me with his name and expecting me to live up to his name fully. She made me practice my instruments for hours upon hours and then, when I was so tired, she would make me study literature and math and science. When I was older, she remarried a man, who could have care less whether or not I was there. When I found out they were plotting to send me away to boarding school, I ran away. I was fourteen years old."

"Oh…" She said, and he decided that was enough.

"Yes, but that is all for tonight. I don't wish to talk about it, but if you must know when you said I looked unhappy tonight it was because she's written to me to come to dinner for Christmas." He said with disgust in his voice. Christine smiled.

"She seems to be trying…" She said and he shook his head.

"Madeleine is a phony, spiteful viper. My being there will entertain her friends because I can play the piano and sing for them all. It is all so she can pretend that we love each other to pieces and she can look like the darling of Rouen."

"So why are you going to go?" Christine asked, her eyes dark with confusion. He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped open the back, revealing a picture of a pretty young girl with dark straight hair and a bright smile. Jealousy coursed through Christine. Of course he would have a sweetheart to motivate him to return home. Of course…His chuckle brought her out of her glare.

"She's my sister Christine. I can see what you're thinking. No, I do not have a woman waiting for me." Christine could only turn red.

"Her name is Emma, she is thirteen." He said and Christine took the pocket watch, looking at the picture. She smiled back up at Erik.

"She's really lovely."

"She is." He agreed.

Suddenly the color drained from her face.

"Oh no." She said and his eyebrows furrowed.

"What on Earth is the matter?" He asked and she brought her hands to her cheeks.

"I forgot I told Emilie to draw my bath at ten…"

"Miss Christine!" A voice came from outside the door.

"Damn!" Erik whispered. "She's had to have heard me."

"Hide!" Christine said, opening the closet door and looking under her tiny bed for a place to stash him.

Another knock.

"Miss Christine, are you there?" Christine hid her face in her hands,

"They're all going to hear about this and then I will be mocked and people will say that I am only prima donna because you and I are sleeping together! Oh my God!" He grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Pull yourself together girl! I will hide behind the mirror." With swift ease, he pressed the correct points and the wall opened, allowing him to step behind. When it was fully closed, Christine threw the bedroom door open, out of breath.

"I'm so sorry Emilie!" She said as the girl brought the warm water in and gently put it into the bath.

"I was worried!" The girl said, making sure it was warm enough. Christine nodded.

"I fell asleep." She said, rubbing her eye and darting her eyes toward the mirror. She knew Erik must be doubled over in laughter at the look on her face and when she caught her reflection, her curls were wild from when his hands had been running through them.

"There!" Emilie said, "All set Miss." She gave a slight bow, eyeing Christine suspiciously and then leaving. Christine threw the latch on the door and locked it. The wall slid open again. Erik emerged gracefully, eyeing the bath longingly, but his mind getting the better of him.

"I'd better go." He said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I'm going to go out the back tunnels through the mirror so none of the maids see me leave your room."

"Erik what is this? What are we?" She asked pulling his hands from her shoulders and holding them in her own.

"We are…I don't know. It's too soon to tell. One day at a time Christine." He said and she laughed softly.

"What is so damned funny?" He asked and she squeezed his hands.

"You stopped calling me Miss Daaé." She said, and to her surprise he smiled.

"I think you ceased to be Miss Daaé when I had you pinned against the door frame. I do apologize for my behavior Christine, if I may have your permission to call you such." She nodded.

"You may."

"I must go…it is late. In the morning, I am going to send a carriage for you. It will bring you to my home and we shall have breakfast together. If it suits you." He said and again, she nodded.

"I would like nothing more Erik." She said, beaming from ear to ear. "I guess this means you don't think of me as a child any more?" She asked and his eyes dropped to the top of her corset where a hint of her cleavage peeked over the lace.

"I know you are not." He said, his cheeks becoming pink again. "May I kiss you again?" he asked, standing in the doorway to the tunnel entrance. She nodded eagerly and allowed him to sweep her up again, lifting her tiny height from the ground. All that was holding her up were her arms around his neck and his around her waist.

"Goodbye Christine." He said, setting her down again and kissing her hand. She nodded.

"Goodnight Erik."

When the mirror had closed, she waited a few moments, before disrobing and stepping into the comforting water of the bath. After she'd washed and settled back into bed, she opened her novel again and picked up where she left off. Only this time, the smile never left her face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay so there is a really um...graphic part in this chapter...thus the M rating of the story. Thanks. **

"Where are you going so early in the morning?" Gustave asked his daughter as she ran into him just outside her room. He couldn't help noticing the pink blush of her cheeks and the fact that she was wearing her best dress.

"I um…" Christine stumbled. She hadn't expected her father to be there that early. "What are you doing here?" She asked changing the subject. He chuckled.

"Can't a man visit his little girl?" He asked and she folded her arms.

"Daddy, I am hardly a little girl anymore…" She replied, her mind clouded with thoughts of the dizzying kisses she had been given the night before.

"Well, you are still _my _little girl Christine Charlotte."

"I know Daddy…" She said, eyeing the door through which her carriage surely waited. Guilt consumed her. She had barely seen her father since coming to the opera and now she was going to leave him here. An idea crossed her mind.

"Listen Daddy. Aunt Annie has been really exhausted lately, why don't you go and spend some time with her? I need to run into town for a bit…with Meg's birthday coming and all." She stopped suddenly and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Gustave asked her and she bit her lip.

"Come to think of it. Meg didn't stop in before bed like she always does, last night…"

The sound of loud bickering distracted them and when they looked down the hall to where it was coming from, she saw Alexis, being thrown out of a room without a shirt on. Shortly following, his shirt and shoes were thrown at him and the door slammed. His black hair was in disarray and he looked like he hadn't slept at all. The third door on the left. Slow realization came into both Gustave and Christine's eyes as Alexis ambled toward the men's dormitories. Gustave cleared his throat.

"Well…" He said feigning cheerfulness. "Let's all have dinner tonight…I'm going to distract…er…that is, see Annie…God help the poor girl if she finds out." He muttered, kissing Christine's cheek and trotting toward the ballet mistress's room.

Joseph Buquet came running down from the lobby sighing in relief when he saw Christine.

"Thank goodness. Your car is here…they've been waiting for a quarter of an hour!" He cried and she followed him quickly to where the driver stood impatiently.

"Please accept my apologies…" She said as he began to help her up.

"Christine?" She turned her head to see Raoul stepping out of his own carriage. She sighed.

"Sorry Raoul, I can't talk right now…I have to meet someone!" She cried as the door shut and the carriage lurched forward, leaving Raoul standing there watching as the car disappeared around the bend.

"You're late." Erik said facing away from her when he heard her come in. She nervously wrung her fingers.

"I know…my father…"

"I did not ask for details Miss Daaé." He replied and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Where was the reckless, romantic man from last night? With the unkempt hair and the flashing eyes. Today he was perfectly put together. His black hair slicked back, a casual suit that flattered his figure. Pants a looser fit, but still did not hide the fact that his thighs were all muscle. She wanted to touch one, never having felt a man's thigh before.

He turned and finally looked at her standing there in the doorway with the sunlight streaming in the windows, giving her an ethereal glow. Her dress was pink, the color of her lips and her mahogany curls were gently pulled away from her face but for a few lingering tendrils. Her lips were pursed in a defiant pout as always and her chocolate colored eyes blazed with the same intensity she'd had since the day he'd met her. In all truth he wanted to lurch forward and unbutton the endless buttons on the back of her dress one by one slowly and kiss each part of exposed skin that showed as he did. The reality was, that he was so ashamed by his careless actions the night before, he couldn't bear it.

Once he'd been home, he'd gone into his study and had a drink of brandy. He remembered the tingling feeling he had all over his body. It wasn't as if he'd never been with a woman before. He'd had dozens, mostly young rebellious debutantes, as they flocked to him after his shows. They were all the same. However, he could scarcely remember their names or what they looked like, so how did this girl, who was the daughter of a simple musician, have such an effect. She was no great beauty. She did have her beautiful traits, her mouth being his favorite thing to look at, but her nose was rather different and her eyes were very big and very wide. Yet all together she looked complete, lovely even. It was her fire. Her joy for life that drew him since he'd lost any and all joy for living before he could remember.

"It's Miss Daaé again, is it?" She asked softly with a gentle smile. He remained serious, having melted on the inside.

"I would like to apologize for my actions last night. It was completely inappropriate and unprofessional of me." He said tightly. She laughed lightly.

"I'm not sorry…" She said and his arms dropped to his sides.

"Listen Christine. I know you think you know me, but I am not the man you thought you knew in that dream. That man doesn't exist." She frowned.

"That's what you think? I had some silly dream about you and all of a sudden I can't resist you…Jesus Erik! How much of a loony do you think I am?" She asked angrily.

"I never said that Christine, but you must admit. That dream has something to do with how you are feeling about me right now. If you knew me…you wouldn't…I can't…" She shook her head at him.

"No Erik. This is about _you._ You are afraid to feel something, _anything _for someone because you don't have a damned idea about what love is supposed to feel like and it's scaring the hell out of you." She sighed. "Look yes…maybe that dream I had intrigued me to know more about you, but it was always about the real you since I saw you! Give me some credit damn it! I am not your mother!" She stopped herself, clapping her hands over her mouth.

He sighed,

"Maybe this was all just a big stupid mistake." He said looking out the window. She looked at the back of his head angrily, none of this morning going the way she had envisioned. Shaking her head, she decided to leave and swiveled to march out the door, stopping to shoot back at him.

"You may think that the man from my dream doesn't exist Erik, but you're damn well as selfish as him!" She said and before she could move or even knew what was happening, she was once again locked in his embrace, clinging to the jacket of his suit.

He pulled back again, but she wouldn't let him push her away. Taking his face in her hands she looked up at him completely serious.

"I'm not sorry Erik…" She said. With a nervous chuckle he gently pulled away from her and kissed her palm, moving to the sliding double doors to the sitting room they were in and shutting them, latching the lock.

"No…" With a sigh, he turned back to her and took off his suit jacket. "But you're going to be…"

Furiously, Meg tied her straight blonde hair back into a white ribbon and pulled on her tights and leotards along with her pointe shoes. This morning had not started well. Surprisingly, she had ended up having fun with Alexis who took her to the bistro and danced with her all night. As cloddy as he was, she was pleasantly surprised with his dancing. Both of them were still feeling the rush of the standing ovation they'd received in the opera and Alexis decided to treat her to some wine. Neither of them had ever really been big drinkers, so by the third glass Meg had been quite giddy.

It seemed like all of her senses had been opened by the alcohol and she suddenly realized that she did like Alexis. By the time the cab had taken them back to the opera, they had drunkenly stumbled on the steps and had fallen with him on top of her. They'd both laughed hysterically until he suddenly kissed her. Somehow they'd crashed into her room and the last thing she remembered was the feeling of her corset coming off. She'd woken up this morning first and when she'd seen him laying there with his head on her chest, she'd thrown off the covers and pushed him off the bed, waking him.

"What'd ya do that for?" He asked groggily, realizing that they were both undressed and in Meg's room.

"Get. Out." She growled, tossing his pants at him as she clutched the sheets over herself.

"Meg, I…"

"_Get out!_" She screamed as he'd pulled his pants on. She nearly tripped over the sheets as she got up and grabbed his shoes and shirt. Pushing him by the chest as she threw the door open.

"Meg, what the hell is your problem?" He asked and she had become even more furious.

"You are!" She screamed, throwing his things out the door and slamming it in his face.

Meg had decided to take out her frustration through practice. Auditions for _Aida _were rapidly approaching and she wanted to dance one of the bigger dance parts. She liked the fact that everyone in the chorus and ballet corps had to audition so each time they had a new chance to get a bigger part. She threw herself into pirouettes once in the rehearsal hall, whipping fouettés.

"You're going to fly away with all that anger Meg Giry." Meg gently stopped her spinning to see her mother standing before her in a gold dress. Coming forward, Annie held her arms out and brought the girl in for an embrace. "What's wrong my girl?" She asked, kissing Meg's forehead.

"Maman, I…nothing…I am just working on my audition." Annie looked at her strangely, sensing there was something her child wasn't telling her, but it was blatantly obvious that she didn't want to talk about it.

"We're going to go out for dinner tonight, how would you like to go shopping with Gustave and I? We can get you a new dress…maybe for the masked ball on New Years?

"Maman, that isn't for nearly three months." She said and Annie shrugged.

"Better to be prepared!" She laughed, desperately wanting to pick up the usually sunny Meg's spirits.

"Alright…I'll come." She grumbled, taking her mother's arm. As they made their way back to Meg's room, Alexis passed her, following her with his eyes the entire time he walked with one of the chorus boys. She instantly looked at the ground and kept her arm in her mother's.

"W-what do you mean?" Christine asked, backing up against the far wall.

"Oh you're going to be sorry Christine Daaé…" He said, a distinct glint in his eye.

"Are you going to hurt me?" She asked, not really believing he was, but she was a bit intimidated by the way he was stalking toward her, loosening his tie.

"Worse…" He said, his voice low. "I'm going to make love to you on this floor." He replied, picking up a soft blanket that was draped over one of the sofas and spread it in front of the fireplace.

"Oh…" Christine said softly, clutching at the wall as if for dear life. He approached her slowly putting both of his hands against the wall on either side of her shoulders.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked, moving his lips closer. She nodded innocently as his lips closed over hers. He felt her small hands come up between them and begin to frantically try and unbutton his shirt. He pulled away and grabbed her hands between his, kissing her small knuckles.

"Not so fast Christine…" He laughed, trailing his lips to her neck, biting her earlobe softly.

"Oh…" She said, surprised at the feeling his lips on her throat caused. A tingle crept from her head into a place she'd never known could have feelings.

His hand crept slowly down her back until it stopped at her waist and pulled her completely against him. Her eyes widened when she felt his arousal.

"Christine…" He whispered against her collarbone. Instinctively her hands moved to touch his thick black hair, making it messy as she liked it. To her surprise he stood up and pulled away, but before she could protest, his hands guided her to turn around facing the wall and she felt his nimble fingers unbutton each tiny button with expertise.

Once his task was done she was once again whirled to face him and his mouth was on hers delightfully again. He brushed the sleeve of her dress off of one shoulder and lowered his lips to the soft flesh there. Finally her dress was off to the waist leaving her corset as the pretty pink material slid to her feet. With a frustrated sigh, he turned her around and quickly unlaced the stays which fell away from her leaving her only in a chemise and stockings.

"You can still back out of this Christine…" He said reaching for the hem of her chemise.

"No." She said taking her own initiative and pulling the chemise off quickly. He stared at her for a moment, all naked but for the pair of white stockings she wore and he suddenly didn't know which part of her he wanted to taste first.

Taking her hand he led her to the blanket and told her to lay down, quickly taking off his own clothing and lying beside her. He propped himself next to her on his elbow and ran his large hand from her neck, over her breast and across the flat plain of her stomach until he reached the place that had been tingling for him. She gasped in a mix of horror and pleasure as he gently inserted one finger into her.

"Don't!" She cried. For a moment it felt awkward but the knowing rhythm of his finger found her sweet spot and she began to thrash in ecstasy. "Oh don't stop!" She corrected. With a chuckle he bent to press a kiss to her breast, running his tongue over the nipple.

Again slowly, he removed his finger and moved down her body, pulling two pillows from the sofa and shoving them under her bottom. Crouching between her legs, he grinned up at her. Her eyes widened.

"What are you doing?" She asked and he let out a purr.

"Remember what I was doing with my finger?" He asked her and she nodded. He ran his tongue over his lips. "Now I am going to do that with my mouth." He said and she, being a complete innocent said,

"Do people actually do that?" Amused he nodded and began to lower his head.

"Erik wait!" She said, a bit uneasy with having someone's mouth touch her there. She couldn't imagine getting pleasure from it.

"For what?" He asked, still smiling and she modestly covered her breasts.

"I've never done this before and I just don't see how…"

"Christine!" He said loudly to cut her off. She stopped, dumbfounded.

"What?"

"Hush." He said with a laugh and lowered his head to taste her. If she'd had any doubt about how someone would get pleasure from that, it was gone as she clawed the blanket tightly in her fists, moaning with abandon. She felt herself release after a little bit and he pulled away, moving over her, pulling the pillows back out from under her.

"Ready for another one?" He asked, flicking his tongue over her breast. She sighed.

"But I am exhausted, I can't imagine being able to…" He hushed her with his lips and though it was a strange taste on his lips from her, she once again felt a jolt rush through her. He nudged her legs apart with his thighs and she suddenly felt him at her entrance.

"It will hurt a little, but I will be careful." He assured her, and kissed her quickly on the lips, bracing his arms on either side of her, holding himself up by his elbows.

As he began to enter, it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be until he was about halfway in and she felt a sharp ripping pain in her. He felt her tense and told her to relax, waiting patiently for her to calm. She could feel him throb within her, but a moment later her eyes opened again and the pain was all gone. He felt her hips move a bit and licking his finger he reached between them to gently rub the small spot which gave her the most pleasure and soon, she was moaning beneath him. He went slowly, waiting for her.

"Erik I need you…please…" She begged, willing him to go faster than this tedious torture. That was all he needed to hear as her legs wrapped around his waist.

He began to thrust powerfully then, sending her into a climax that didn't want to end as she screamed his name. Finally, he allowed himself to release in her shuddering madly as he spilled.

"Oh my God…Christine…" He whispered, looking down at her gentle smile and kissing her, his lips trembling along with the rest of his body. He was physically exhausted from holding back until she came with him, but it had been worth it to feel her tense around his length. He fell tiredly against her, still buried inside her, resting his head on her chest. He felt the gentle press of her lips on his forehead as he opened his eyes and withdrew, laying to the side of her and pulling her so she was draped across him.

"I told you that you would be sorry…" He said and she let out a low giggle, it almost sounded evil.

"I think it is you who will be sorry Monsieur Destler." She purred, letting her own tongue dart across his nipple. She felt his taut muscles tense.

"Why is that?" He asked with a grin and she looked up into his green eyes.

"Because now you'll never be rid of me…"

"Oh Maman, it is perfect…thank you two for taking my mind off of…everything…" Meg cried with a giggle as she held the white angel dress to her body. Gustave looked down at Antoinette and beamed. He now had two daughters. A beautiful dark haired angel that was a replica of his Jo and this tiny blonde darling…Christine and Marguerite…he was so blessed. Meg, still smiling turned to her mother and soon to be stepfather.

"I can't wait to show Christine!" She said, her blue eyes dancing. A frown came to Gustave's face.

"Where is Christine anyway?" Annie asked him and he looked up at her lost.

"Come to think of it, I don't know…"


	11. Chapter 11

This chapter jumps a bit but the story will pick up soon. I swear. It's a bit depressing. Sorry.

Erik paced his office furiously the next day, as Nadir calmly sipped his tea . The Persian man eyed him.  
"You did something stupid. Didn't you?" He asked, knowing Erik all too well. Erik nodded.  
"Yes." He said, sitting down to go through some of the mail.  
"Go on with it then..." Nadir said expectantly and Erik looked up, running a hand through his thick hair.  
"I slept with Daaé." He said. The Persian man nearly choked.  
"You _what?_ Erik! She is a child!" He cried and Erik nodded, disgusted with himself.  
"I know it..." He said and Nadir sighed.  
"You know you have to marry her now..." He said with warning and Erik looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"_Marry_ her?" He asked and Nadir nodded thoughtfully.  
"It would be proper..." He replied. Erik shook his head.  
"No...it was a mistake. One that will never happen again..." He said sternly as the Persian sat. Outside the door, Christine dropped the book that she had been carrying when she decided to pay Erik a visit in his office. Apparently, he'd heard the book drop, because the door opened as soon as she began to walk away.  
"Christine?" He asked, seeing her bound down the stairs.  
"Leave me alone." She said quickly, stalking into her room with him close behind.

"What's the matter?" He asked as she pulled out a suitcase and began to pack.  
"I quit. I'm sorry for coming here and ruining your life." She said, pushing him aside so she could get to her closet.  
"Christine wait...it's not like that..." He pleaded with her and she stopped, whirling about to look up at him. For the first time in his life, Erik who was at least two inches over six feet tall was intimidated by a skinny girl of no more than five feet six inches.  
"Oh really? I believe your exact words were, 'It was a mistake.' I cannot play these games with you Erik. Either I am good enough for you or not. There is no in between."

She began to pack again, but his hand grabbed her arm, stopping her.  
"Christine wait. Look, I know you think everything is fine, but the truth of the matter is that yesterday, I took your innocence. You're not pure anymore and it's my fault...in all truth I should go straight to your father and ask for your hand, but I have more respect for you than to force you into a marriage you aren't ready for..." She almost laughed bitterly.  
"Who says I am not ready to be married? You? My father? Raoul? When are people going to start listening to what I want. I knew exactly what I was doing yesterday Erik. I'm not an idiot, contrary to what you may think." She bit out. He took her hand.  
"Of course I don't think that...you are just very young...I should never have done that but damned if I can't control myself around you. Every since you came into this opera you have disrupted my routine...my plans for myself. Now I can't get you off my mind, and I have taken advantage of you! You should be angry..."

She folded her arms across her chest.  
"I am angry Erik...I am angry that you don't respect me enough to consider me competent. I want to be your equal Erik, a partner, not an assistant. I despise the thought of being someone's _little_ wife. I just want to be someone's _wife._" He wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he crouched down before her where she had sunk to sit on the bed and took both of her hands.  
"Sweetheart, I would never want you to be my little wife...hell, I don't even want you to be my wife. I want you to marry someone you love...someone who deserves you and I am just not that person." He begged her with his eyes for forgiveness. She shook her head.  
"What about what I want Erik? Why are you and Daddy always telling me what I want and don't want? Look if you don't want to be with me, just say it. I can handle the truth. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you aren't falling in love with me if you haven't already. Look straight into my eyes and tell me I am the wrong girl."

"No Christine...I can't do that...it is me that is the wrong man..." He said, bowing his head into her lap. She raked her fingers gently through his hair.  
"Tell me." She said, kissing his temple. He looked up at her, begging her to stop. She stood her ground, watching him expectantly.  
"I...I..." He tried to find the words, but right now he couldn't even formulate a word. "I...can't." He said defeated. "I can't. Are you happy?" She nodded, satisfied.  
"Yes actually, I am." She said, and he stood up.  
"Good then...now, since I am doing the right thing, will you marry me?" He asked, on one knee. She laughed, extremely amused with herself.  
"Of course not, you dolt!"

* * *

Six weeks later, Antoinette and Gustave married in a small ceremony at the local church. Only a few people were present such as their daughters, Monsieur Destler and Joseph Buquet, Alexis D'Aubigne and a spattering of the ballerinas. Meg was extremely pale and Christine seemed distracted, but overall, they were a happy bunch. Christine eyed Erik through the ceremony, who studiously ignored her. Meg stared into her bouquet as Alexis looked at her with pleading eyes. Shortly after the ceremony, once everyone had gone back to the opera to celebrate, Meg had been helped out of the carriage and had fainted.

A doctor had instantly been called and an hour later, Gustave and Antoinette were told that Meg was pregnant while she rested.  
"What!" Annie had cried, looking at Gustave. "There must be some mistake my Meg would never..." She stopped as she caught sight of Alexis, who had heard everything and had gone completely white.  
"You!" She cried as Gustave took her arm.  
"Annie...calm..."  
"I will _not_ calm down! My sixteen year daughter has been violated and is now carrying a child!" She broke free of her new husband's hold and grabbed Alexis by the arm of his coat, dragging him into the room where Meg was. Before they went in, however, she glared at him.  
"You are going to ask Meg to marry you...and you two will be married this weekend."

"What if she doesn't want..."  
"She should have thought of that before she decided to give herself up drunkenly...and so should you!" He nodded, knowing the woman was right as he was led to Meg's bedside. She stared blankly up at the ceiling.  
"Meg," He began, clearing his throat. "Will you marry me?" He asked, doing his best to sound calm. She looked at him, something in her eyes dead and nodded.  
"Yes...I'll marry you..."

Annie spent her wedding night, crying in her husband's arms as she wept for the loss of her daughter's innocence. She knew Alexis would be good to her, but this was not how she imagined Meg getting married. She and Gustave made passionate, comforting love as he whispered words of adoration and reassurance into her ear. Christine slept alone in her small dormitory room, tossing and turning. It had been days, weeks even since she and Erik had last been alone. Never had they dared to do what they had done on the floor of his home since that one morning. He avoided her habitually, turning the other way when he saw her and making sure there was always someone near.

The following Saturday, she stood by with her parents and watched as Meg married Alexis. Gustave had helped the boy find a small flat that the two of them could raise a baby in and had bought it for them with Annie's approval. Devastated that she couldn't dance in _Aida,_ Meg was extremely surprised with Monsieur Destler came to her home and offered her the role of Amneris, despite her condition. When it opened after all, she would only be midway through her third month of the pregnancy. She and Christine began to practice with Alexis for the show and season Meg's voice for the stage. Proving to be quite the fast learner, Meg was soon excelling vocally and found herself even enjoying her husband's company. At night, she even allowed him to drape his arm over her as they slept.

Rehearsals for _Aida_ went much smoother than the first show and before any of them were able to blink, December began and snow began to fall. Christine spent most of her time at Meg's when they weren't rehearsing. Two weeks before Christmas, Alexis came home after rehearsal and found Meg lying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, blood running down her leg. He rushed outside and asked his neighbor to fetch the doctor. Not long after, Christine, Gustave and Annie were all crowded in their small living room along with Alexis, waiting for news. As soon as the doctor came out, they knew it would not be good news they were having. He shook his head.  
"I am sorry Monsieur…something went very wrong and she miscarried." He said to Alexis, who doubled over as if he'd been hit and began to cry. Gustave walked over to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Doctor." Annie said softly, moving into the bedroom with Christine to find Meg staring up at the ceiling with her hands on her stomach.  
"Meg?" Christine asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Meg's hand. Meg looked at her but it seemed as if she were looking through her. She didn't say a word.  
"Are you alright sweetheart?" Annie asked her and she nodded.  
"Fine…" Meg replied blankly. Annie touched Meg's hair.  
"The doctor told us there was something wrong with the pregnancy from the beginning…it seemed to be growing in the wrong place. Thanks why you were having pain." Meg was literally unresponsive, so Annie and Christine left her to rest.

"It's not fair…" Christine said when they were back in the living room.  
"I know…but it's no one's fault love, and we could have done nothing to prevent this." Alexis looked up at the doctor, heartbroken.  
"Can she still have children?" He asked and the man smiled.  
"Absolutely without question. This condition is one I have rarely seen…she's a healthy girl." Alexis sniffed.  
"Thank you…" He said as Christine walked over to him and laid her head on his shoulder.  
"You alright?" She asked and he shrugged.  
"If the baby is gone…what reason does Meg have to stay? She doesn't love me enough to just want to be my wife." He said and Christine frowned.

"How can you say that Alexis? She's learned to cook for you. She cleans and does your dirty laundry. Believe me, if she didn't feel something for you, she would throw your dirty clothes at your head and tell you to piss off. Meg has never been one to keep her mouth shut." She squeezed his hand leaving with her parents. When she returned to the opera, she kissed them goodbye and walked numbly to her room, throwing herself on the bed and crying for Meg and Alexis. Faintly, she heard the door creak open and cursed herself for not locking it.

"Christine are you crying?" Her eyes opened, hearing Erik's voice as she turned to look at him, sniffling. He looked worried.  
"What is it?" He asked, kneeling next to her.  
"Meg lost her baby." She said, wincing at the thought of what must be going through Meg's mind.  
"No…" He said softly. She nodded.  
"Alexis went home after rehearsal today and found her lying in a pool of blood at their house. They called for the doctor and we were going to their house for dinner…" She sniffed again.

"How is she?" Erik asked her, worried about his employee. Christine looked at him.  
"She doing well…too well if you ask me…like she is in complete denial." She sobbed, unsure of why she was blurting all of this out to a man she was completely angry at.  
"You seem pretty broken up about it." He said, and couldn't help thinking that she was never this emotional.  
"Wouldn't you be? Meg had to get married because of it, and now she is stuck in a marriage for no reason." She said, really not believing that.  
"If she wanted out, don't you think Alexis would give her that? He's a good man Christine…" Erik said, surprising himself. He'd never thought himself to like Alexis, but his respect for the boy had grown when he'd had the courage to do right by Meg. Then again Meg had been pregnant and Christine wasn't. Or wasn't she?

Suddenly it felt like the room had come crashing down on him. Wasn't she? She was weepy, tired lately, just earlier this week, she'd missed rehearsal because she was sick. _Oh God, oh God, oh God…_This was why she was so broken up about Meg! She too was…suddenly, he felt sick and slumped to the ground.  
"Erik?" She asked, wiping her eyes and rushing forward, "What's wrong?"  
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked resting his head against the bed. She stopped, confused.  
"Tell you _what?_ I just told you!" He sighed loudly.  
"You've been lying to me Christine! How could you keep something like this from me?" He asked, standing up and pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"Keeping what from you? I'm completely lost!" She said and he tossed his arms in the air.  
"That you too are expecting! Damn it Christine, what do you take me for a fool?" Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him.  
"What?" She asked hardly above a whisper.  
"You're pregnant." He said again, accusing. "Why did you feel you had to hide it…?"  
"Erik." She said sternly.  
"Did you think I would abandon you…?  
"Erik." She replied a bit louder, but still he babbled on.  
"I would do the right thing. I am not the type to…"  
"Erik!" She cried, shutting him up.

"What?" He asked and she folded her arms crossly.  
"I am not pregnant you moron! I haven't even missed my monthly! I caught a cold from Bella, if that's why you thought I was sick. My throat hurt. That was all! When I get stressed out I cry a lot, and you haven't been talking to me much lately…God! I am _not_ pregnant!" Suddenly, instead of being angry, she was laughing hysterically. "Jesus! The look on your face…" She said and he scowled at her.  
"I hate you." He grumbled, turning away to hide the redness of his cheeks. At thirty three years old a silly girl could still embarrass him.  
"Oh don't be sore…" She said, touching his shoulder.

"You really thought I was holding something from you, didn't you?" She asked. He nodded.  
"I feel guilty every day about what I did to you." He said looking straight at her. She shifted uncomfortably.  
"What you did to me…wasn't I just as much to blame?"  
"No." He said without hesitation. "I can't even look at you without feeling like a disgusting fiend." She sighed.  
"Do I look like someone who feels like they have been violated?" She asked and he shook his head. "Good. Put it out of your head. And don't worry, I don't expect you to pretend like you're in love with me just because we slept together."

She heard him mutter something under his breath but couldn't make out what it was.  
"Christine, do you like turkey?" He asked suddenly and her eyebrow raised.  
"Turkey?"  
"Yes. Do you like it?" He asked again as she bit her lip.  
"Well I suppose…"  
"Would you like to come to Rouen with me for Christmas?" He asked making her nearly choke.

"To meet your family?" She asked and he nodded. She thought a moment, wondering how she could tell her father without giving it away that she and Erik were in some strange sort of courtship.  
"I um…yes! Of course I will come." She said.  
"Thank you." He leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As he was walking out, she said,  
"Erik, are we something here?" He stopped outside the door and nodded slightly.  
"I think we are."

* * *

"Meg?" Alexis hesitantly came into their room, where his wife lay staring at the wall on her side.  
"What?" She asked without emotion.  
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, wondering why she hadn't cried in the two days since her miscarriage.  
"No." She said softly.  
"I brought you some food. Some hot tea and a biscuit." He said, setting the tray on the night table.  
"Thanks." She said.

"It's alright, you know." Alexis said softly and she looked slowly at him, as if his very presence irked her.  
"What is?" She asked, while he took her hand gently crouching beside the bed.  
"You haven't cried…you haven't eaten…Meg. Everyone has their ways of showing grief and you're not showing anything."  
"What's to show? My child is dead, our child is dead…there's nothing we can do to bring it back." She said and suddenly he knew that she felt like she should be dead too and this was how she was dealing with it.

"Meg…it hurts I know, but it wasn't any of our faults…we could have another baby." He said and she glared at him.  
"A replacement baby?" She shot out bitterly and he shook his head, unsure of how to handle things like this.  
"A child of our own, born out of our love-" He stopped. "Look if you want out of this marriage, I will do whatever it takes to make you happy…I know we were kind of tossed into it." He admitted.  
"Is that what you want?" She asked, sitting up. He shrugged.  
"I don't even know what I want anymore…all I have ever wanted for you since we became friends last year is for you to be happy…" He said.

"Alexis…are you in love with me?" She asked, sitting with her knees against her chest, her tangled blonde hair hanging over her shoulders. He looked at her helplessly and let out a sigh.  
"Yes. I always have been. You always seemed to be annoyed so I tried to get to know Christine, but all I could think about the entire time I was out with Christine that one time was you. I loved you since my first rehearsal when I saw you dance."  
"You did?" She asked with the slightest smile. He nodded.

"I am so sorry we lost the baby…but if you stay with me I promise I will do my best to make you the happiest girl in the world. We can have ten children if you like…we can get through this." He said. She touched her now unoccupied middle.  
"How about eleven?" She asked and leaned over to kiss him on the lips.  
"If that's what you want…" He said with a sad smile. She allowed herself to be enclosed in his arms and finally, she was able to cry.


	12. Chapter 12

"Daddy?" Christine called tentatively, creeping into her father's house which was silent. She felt horrible for coming so early in the morning but her worry had built over the entire past two weeks and it was now two days before Christmas and she still hadn't told him or Annie that she was going to Rouen that night.

"Daddy?" She called again and heard the back door slide open as Gustave came in, brushing the snow from his shoulders and smiled in surprise when he saw his daughter.

"Christine! Come, sit down love…Annie has gone to see how Meg is faring today." She smiled as the gold of his wedding ring glistening in the morning light. How nice it was to see her father happy again.

"Daddy, I have to tell you something…" She said guiltily as he poured each of them a mug of cocoa and sat across from her.

"Something is wrong Little Lotte…what is it?" He said, calling her the endearment he had given her many years before.

"Daddy…it's about…Christmas…" She began, and he eyed her.

"Go on…" He replied, sipping his cocoa. Taking a deep breath she looked at her hands.

"I…um…we were contacted by another opera company who would like to meet with Monsieur Destler and myself for possible partnership." Her father sat back, clearly disappointed.

"And you won't be here for Christmas." He concluded. She nodded, ashamed of herself. Truly, she had intended to tell him the truth on the way here, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell her father she was spending Christmas with another man and someone else's family.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered and her father sighed.

"Christine, I knew going into this audition and everything that you would be busy…I just, Christmas? How strange…where is your meeting?" He asked and she sighed.

"London." She lied, hating herself. Gustave took her hand gently and thought a moment.

"I'll tell you what Christine…we will celebrate Christmas the day you come back, but don't you dare make other plans for that day. We're a family…we're your family. Don't forget it." He said softly and though his voice was gentle, his words cut through her like a knife. She left his house that day feeling like a complete brat for her selfishness brat, and when she arrived back at the Opera, it got worse.

As she walked up the steps she heard,

"Christine?" She turned around to see Raoul standing there, his long hair tied back handsomely.

"Raoul." She said, turning back toward him and drawing her coat tightly around her in the blustery wind. She knew Erik could probably see her from inside, but a small part of her felt badly for the awkwardness between she and Raoul now.

"Merry Christmas Christine…" He said with a kind smile. She flushed.

"How are you Raoul?" She asked, scooting closer to him.

"Good…I was just…I came to see how things were going with _Aida_ and everything." He said. She nodded.

"It is going well. Meg has such a lovely voice."

"As do you Christine." Raoul replied.

"I…thank you." Christine said, feeling uncomfortable, which saddened her because they used to have such fun together.

"Christine, I need to talk to you." Raoul finally blurted, taking one of her cold hands. She raised an eyebrow at him but waited patiently. He looked at their hands and sighed.

"You remember that night I kissed you?" He asked. She nodded, blushing furiously and ashamedly.

"Yes…what about it?" She asked coldly. He winced slightly.

"I think about it all the time…it's funny Christine, but I can't seem to fight off the feeling that you and I were meant to be together." She put her hand to his mouth and looked around before whispering.

"Raoul…get control of yourself! You are married to Rachelle and I am…" She stopped, afraid to give much away. "I am your friend Raoul. Nothing more." He sighed in despair.

"Surely you have some feelings for me?" He asked desperately and she shook her head.

"Raoul I do love you, but not in the way you wish. You are the brother I never had. Nothing more." She squeezed his hand, "Nothing more." Sighing she said, "Go home Raoul. To Rachelle and to your son…I have nothing to offer you."

"I would leave her for you…" He said stubbornly and she glared at him.

"If you are a man who would leave his wife and infant son, then I suppose I don't know you as well as I thought."

"You can't know the pain I feel to see you and not be able to touch you!" He said and she could have died at his innocence.

"Raoul! I did not marry someone else! You did! If you want to blame someone, blame yourself. And get home to your wife!" She let go of his hand and began to walk away.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" He asked, almost accusingly. She turned back around, angry fire burning in her eyes.

"Even if there is, it is none of your affair Raoul. Good day." She said and left him there.

"Christine…" He called in defeat. She sighed heavily and turned back.

"What?"

"I'm sorry…I just…it's been so strange. I was fine with Rachelle. We were nearly content and then I saw you again and my whole world came crashing down. I'd almost forgotten how I used to sit in the attic and try to remember those rainy summer nights when your father gave me lessons on the fiddle and told us stories. I'd almost forgotten how many times I wrote you and never got a response, and the way your eyes lit up when you heard music or sang." He stopped, embarrassed and looked away. Regret filled her eyes as she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"You were the best friend I ever had. You still are…but that is all we are Raoul. If you can't accept that, then we are nothing." She wanted to be kind, but she also wanted to be honest. Cold realization came into his eyes and he nodded at her.

"Of course I want to be your friend."

Emotionally drained Christine walked back inside and almost expectedly she heard Erik's voice.

"Did you have a nice talk?" He asked and she looked up to see him standing at the top of the stairs.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Thank you for asking." She said and began to walk away to gather her things.

"I don't like the way he looks at you." He said, following her. Not looking at him, she shrugged.

"Well, I don't really suppose it's your choice." She said, pulling her suitcase off the bed and brushing past him, making sure to lock the room.

"Do you have feelings for him Christine?" He asked her and she dropped the suitcase heavily whirling on him.

"Why? Are you jealous? I won't have it." She picked her things up again and began to walk again. "And no. I do not." She walked regally like a queen with her head up as she stomped out to the carriage and practically threw her bags into it. As Erik helped her up into the carriage, before he himself entered he muttered,

"Well this is off to a perfect start."

* * *

Christine slept most of the way through her guilt over her father. She had never lied to him in her life and she'd done it with such ease, it saddened her. They finally pulled up to a rather large house in the center of Rouen. As they went through the gates, it was easy to tell that Erik was tense. They were led to a salon once inside the impressive house and told to wait. Christine looked around uncomfortably, eyeing the shining grand piano and the flawless furniture. There were paintings around the room, mostly of different landscapes and such but a few portraits adorned the walls. A boy, obviously a very young Erik stared glumly out from a black frame and then a family portrait of Erik's mother, stepfather and sister.

Erik sat silently on a chaise lounge as Christine chose a love seat. Moments later, a woman walked through the door, her dark hair pulled up. She couldn't have even been fifty yet and she looked around the same age as Annie.

"Charles." The woman said with hardly any emotion in her voice. Christine looked confused. Charles?

"Madeleine." He replied, his voice dripping with the same ice. Robotically, he embraced the woman and kissed her cheek. "Where is Emma?" He asked her and she practically sneered.

"Emmeline is staying in school for the duration of the holidays." She shot at him and anger filled his green eyes.

"You did that deliberately didn't you?" He said softly and she snorted.

"Don't be melodramatic Charles. She misbehaved and therefore is not permitted to come home for Christmas. It is her own fault and I do hate how you coddle her so." Erik glared at the woman who had given him birth and felt nothing.

"Well someone's got to coddle her. Otherwise, she'll turn out like me." He fired at her and she huffed.

"Well...like it or not she is staying in her school, so I suggest you get used to the idea." Madeleine's eyes flitted to Christine.

"Who is this?" She asked and Erik seemed to just realize she was there.

"This is Christine...my employee." He decided and suddenly Christine was hurt.

Madeleine had them settled in rooms across from each other as Christine began to furiously unpack.

"Christine?" Erik's voice came from the doorway.

"What do you want?" She asked moodily, throwing her clothes into drawers. He touched her shoulder which she shrugged away.

"I was just going to see how you were." He said and she laughed bitterly.

"Why should you care? I'm only your employee." She bit out and he was suddenly ashamed.

"I'm sorry Christine." He said and she looked at him.

"Sure you are." She said before continuing what she had begun.

"I couldn't give her the satisfaction..."

"Spare me." She shot at him as she folded one of her chemises. At some point he lost his temper, and he lunged at her and pinned her to the bed.

"Erik Destler, if you knew what is good for you, you would get off of me this second." She said, fully ready to bring her knee up between his legs, but before she could move, he straddled her and pinned her legs together with his knees.

"No." He said, and brought his face an inch from hers. She fought fruitlessly against his strength. "Don't you see what she's deliberately done? She set out to make my Christmas miserable and punished Emma in the process. I'm going to tell her that you are my fiancée tonight so just go along with it. I'm going to make her life miserable." He said and she raised an eyebrow.

"One question Erik." She said as he got off of her. He stared down at her expectantly.

"Go on then." He said and she sat up seriously.

"When you have your revenge, will you be happy then?" She asked and set back to arranging her room. He stared at her absorbing her words for a moment until it was too much and fled the room. He returned less than five minutes later in his coat and hat and was carrying Christine's coat and hat. She turned to look at him in confusion as he began to put her coat on for her.

"What…where are we going?" She asked as he gently tucked the hat over her head.

"We're going to get Emma."

* * *

Christine had fought him the entire way to the school which was out in the country near Lille which they arrived at the next day. Erik had left a note for Madeleine that they should be home by that night. Christine desperately tried to keep up with him but since Erik's legs were so long she found herself running just to stay close behind him and by the time they entered the school she was out of breath.

"May I help you sir?" A woman asked as they walked into the office. He took off his hat.

"Actually you can. I am here to retrieve my sister, Emmeline Hastings. I understand that she misbehaved but if you could just…"

"Monsieur!" The woman interrupted. He looked at her questioningly.

"Yes?" He asked and the woman looked into her records.

"Emmeline did not misbehave…she's one of our best students. Her mother requested she stay over the holidays." Erik's face took on a number of emotions and noticing this, Christine stepped in.

"If you could Mademoiselle, please get Emmeline prepared for us to take her home…"

"Of course my lady." The woman said and bowed slightly before leaving the room.

"That bitch." Erik choked out.

"Erik…" Christine warned.

"She's going to pay for this…" He said icily, sinking into one of the chairs in the office lobby. Christine sat gingerly beside him.

"Let it go." She pleaded. "Your sister is coming home…just let it go." To her surprise and utter horror, he began to sob into his hands.

"Why? Why does she hate me so that she must punish my own sister just to spite me?" Christine backed away, unsure of how to deal with something like this. There was nothing she hated more than seeing grown men cry. She knew he wasn't asking her to answer him, so she did the only thing to comfort him that she could think of. She began to hum, and yet, the only song she could think of was the song from Act three of _Hannibal_, Think of Me. It was so ridiculous that Erik began to laugh.

It escalated quickly so that soon both of them were laughing hysterically and hadn't even noticed that the woman had come back into the room with the girl that Christine recognized from Erik's photo. He instantly stood up and held his arms out for the girl to run into.

"Erik! Mama said you weren't coming home so I didn't want to come either…" She said and Erik sighed.

"Yes, well, she's been saying an awful lot lately hasn't she?" He asked and Emma looked at Christine.

"Who is this?" She asked and Erik pulled Christine so she was next to him.

"This is Christine Daaé." He said and Emma's eyes widened.

"The opera star? I read all about you in the papers!" The girl cried starstruck. Christine blushed.

"Well…your brother hired me…I just do what he tells me." She said shyly as Erik moved to take Emma's things. Once they were settled back in the carriage, Emma looked from Christine to Erik.

"You two are in love, aren't you?" She asked and Christine raised her eyebrows.

"I wouldn't go that far." She muttered.

That night, Christine met Malcolm, who to her surprise was not an unpleasant man but rather someone who seemed like he was a good person. Her first impression of Madeleine had seemed accurate. The look on her face when they had walked back in with Emma was one of subdued rage. She'd lost the battle this time. Malcolm, however, was thrilled to see his only child walk through the doors for Christmas Eve dinner. He even shook Erik's hand and Christine couldn't help but wonder if Madeleine was the only one who resented Erik. For the life of her, she had no idea why, but she soon realized that Madeleine was cold and calculating. She looked at Christine with disdain in her eyes.

"So why is it you brought your star to Christmas Dinner with you?" She asked bluntly in the middle of dinner that night.

"Maddie!" Malcolm scolded, mortified at her cruelty throughout the entire meal.

"Well, Charles said that she was employee…I simply want to know why he thought it was appropriate to bring home an employee." At that moment, Christine wanted to crawl under the table and disappear. Malcolm patted her hand.

"Please don't take offense dear, she's a bit abrasive but she means no harm." Erik put a protective hand on the small of Christine's back and shook his head.

"No Malcolm, please don't make excuses for her or apologize. She's not sorry…you know it."

"See Malcolm? And you thought he was bringing home a fiancée." Madeleine said tartly, gently cutting her meat. Feeling his rage build up, Erik took a long sip of wine before clearing his throat.

"Actually Madeleine…Malcolm was correct. Yes, Christine is my employee but as fate would have it, we fell in love and are to be married in April." Christine choked and Emma's jaw dropped. "Isn't that right sweetheart?" He asked her and she managed to nod remembering their deal, but the way he'd said it had taken her unexpectedly with her mouth full of food. Without hesitation Madeleine eyed Christine scornfully and rolled her eyes.

"She wants your money."

Christine was now angry.

"On the contrary Madame Hastings. My father is quite wealthy. I am sure you have heard of Gustave Daaé, the violinist. We live quite comfortably." She said and it was as if the barrier had broken. Suddenly, Christine Daaé could be of use to Madeleine Hastings and her ever going social climb.

"You're Gustave Daaé's child? I have been trying to get him to play at my parties for years! Oh the good fortune!" She was now lighthearted and laughing. Christine loathed her.

"Yes what an interesting twist of fate." She managed before attacking her food furiously.

"April? April!" Christine cried after she had followed Erik into the room he was staying in. "Where did you come up with April?" He threw his arms up.

"I don't know, I just said it! I just said it to shut her up!" He said helplessly and she pushed him against the wall.

"Yes, well your little plan backfired since she's already begun planning it and wrote a letter to my _father!_" She began to pace. "This can't be happening…" She moaned into her hand. "And we couldn't very well have stopped her because your little farce would have been exposed…oh God. This is like something out of a Shakespeare comedy and yet, I am not laughing." She flopped onto the bed with her arm over her eyes.

"This is going to ruin both of our reputations you know." She said. He remained silent, angering her more. "Say something will you!" She said, sitting up and he turned to her slowly, clicking the lock in the door. Without a word he climbed over her and began to kiss her everywhere but her lips. She frowned.

"Erik, what in the name of…oh!" She stopped as they toppled down with him comfortably on top of her. "Erik! I am not doing this in your mother's home." Kissing her neck, he said bitterly,

"That woman may have given birth to me, but that doesn't make her my mother."

Christine struggled to sit up and looked at him.

"Oh Erik…what did she do to you?" She asked and he broke again, his head falling into her lap as he cried.

"She hates me." He choked, "My father died before I was born and she hates me for it. They had been saving money for my birth and he was taking on more work than usual. One day he'd been on an extra project and Madeleine had wanted him home. There was an accident…he died. It's my fault…if not for me, he wouldn't have taken on extra work." Christine was appalled that a thirty-three year old man could actually believe that.

"Erik…how could someone blame their poor infant son? We all know how babies are made for Christ's sake."

He sniffed.

"She hated me the moment I was born, like I was scarred or something. I know it was because I looked like him." Christine thought a moment, remembering the dream she'd had so long ago.

"She resented you for being beautiful?" She asked and he shrugged.

"I don't know…I almost wish I had been born horrible and marred. Maybe she could have loved me then."

"No Erik. Please don't ever wish that…the hurtful things…you were born perfect and you are lucky because many people aren't." She sighed, "Though sometimes I almost miss…" She stopped herself as he looked at her. "Nevermind. I don't know what I am saying…it has been a long night." He sighed into her lap tiredly.

"What about Malcolm?" She asked and he looked up at her.

"What about him?" He asked indifferently.

"He seems like a good man." She said and he bit his lip.

"I've never had a problem with him. When I found the brochure for them to send me away to school, I thought he may have had something to do with it, but now I know it was her. She never loved him you know…it was his money. She'd had her own money but it was her inheritance and it had dwindled away while I was growing up so she needed it. Now she wants a title and she thinks that will secure her place in high society." Christine rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't realize that the high society people are just as nice and normal as everyone else. At least the Chagnys are, they…"

He growled a little bit at the name and she couldn't suppress a laugh.

"Well they are good people Erik…" She said and he scowled.

"I suppose most of them are, it's just that damned viscount son of theirs. Foppish little thing he is." Christine laughed.

"Well, Raoul may have his femininities, but…"

"Oh come off it Christine…he has longer hair than you do!" She messed his hair at his exaggeration and shook her head. "And he certainly needs to remember who he is married to!" Erik finished and her face grew serious.

"Can we discuss something else?" She asked and his eyes blazed.

"Did he say something to you?" He asked and she shook her head, getting up.

"Just forget it Erik…" She said, lunging for the door, but quick as a cat, he was blocking her escape.

"No I will not forget it. Did he?" He asked and Christine turned away, feeling ashamed and horrible.

"Yes." She sighed in defeat. "He told me he would leave his wife for me…I would never agree to an arrangement like that!"

"That little bastard…" Erik muttered and she sighed.

"He's confused…he doesn't know what he wants. He's still very young, Raoul is, and he was very sheltered in his life."

"Well he damn well better shelter himself away from you…and treat that sweet girl the way she deserved. Rachelle Beaudry deserved more than that." He said and scowled again. He'd met her at numerous parties and balls even before she'd married the viscount and she had always been a headstrong, fun loving girl. Now, she was a subservient little viscountess and mother. Christine's life would have been the same had she been there first to marry the boy. Christine needed someone who understood her, someone who loved her completely, someone like…

"Me." He answered himself.

"I have a proposition…" He began when he noticed she was looking at him like one looks at a lunatic.

"Which means what?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"We'll go along with our charade and then just before the wedding, we'll call the whole thing off…it will show Madeleine! Serves her right, accusing you of wanting my money! You can break it off! You'll leave me heartbroken and alone! I could even go a bit crazy…" He began to babble and her eyes just widened as he went on. When he looked at her again, her eyebrows were raised and her lips were pursed.

"What?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.

"Lunatic."


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry so short...writers block. Bad.

* * *

"Christine? What is the meaning of this? Engaged? To your manager?" Christine sat demurely in her father's living room as Erik sat in the kitchen with Antoinette. Gustave held Madame Hasting's letter in his hand, making her want to crawl behind the sofa and disappear.

"So this was why you couldn't spend Christmas with us…" He said in realization and she nodded. He knelt next to where she sat and took her hands.

"Why couldn't you just tell me the truth?" He asked her, and still she couldn't speak as she blinked the guilty tears for lying to her beloved father. Even now.

"I wanted to I…didn't think you would approve." She replied as his eyes turned soft again. Gustave moved to sit beside her.

"Well…I do admit, it is a bit…scandalous to be engaged to your employer, but all I have ever said since the day you were born was that there is nothing I value more than your happiness. I just need to know one thing." He said seriously and she wiped her eyes.

"What is that?"

"Do you love him?" He asked and her mouth dropped open.

"What?"

"I said, do you love him Christine?" He repeated. She began to fidget with her skirt, looking at the faux engagement ring they had stopped and bought on the way back today.

"Well I…" She began but stopped herself to think a moment. What _did _she feel for Erik Destler? Love? Maybe not quite yet, but he did tend to stir romantic feelings of sorts in her. However, she knew nothing below love would catch her father's approval so she cleared her throat.

"Of course I do Daddy." She said, crossing her fingers slightly.

* * *

"You're engaged? To my husband's daughter? Have I heard correctly Erik?" Annie asked, disbelieving.

"Yes Annie, it's true. I asked Christine to marry me just before Christmas and she accepted wholeheartedly." He said, sitting calmly at the table sipping his tea. She sat across from him, eyeing him.

"Do you realize the scandal this will cause? Poor Christine's talent will be overlooked because she's married to you and you are her manager." Erik nodded.

"Let people think what they will…it does not change how we feel about one another." Annie shook her head in disbelief.

"Erik, you are more kinds of crazy than I can count."

* * *

"Ugh would you please stop tapping your damned pen?" Christine asked, sitting in Erik's office the day before the New Year's Masquerade. They'd spent nearly the entire week together to keep up their charade, only parting to sleep and it was driving them both mad. The entire opera house knew now that they were "engaged," and to Erik's relief, there was hardly a fuss. Christine cringed at the thought of when Raoul would read the announcement in the papers, though she sorely wished he would move on with his wife and son. Not that she didn't cherish the friendship they once had, but it was beginning to become uncomfortable since she liked Rachelle de Chagny so much.

All of this talk of marriages and engagement made Christine melancholy for she now had to wonder who she would end up with. Obviously it would not be Erik, for his sole purpose in life was to get revenge on his mother. And, lovely as the dream she could scarcely remember had been, she now could think of Raoul as only a brother. Erik gave her an irritated look.

"I will stop tapping this pen, when you cease sighing every three minutes...my God girl!" She threw the novel she was reading on the ground and said,

"I honestly don't know how married people do it..." She mused.

He looked up from his work.

"Do what?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"You know...see each other all the time and not drive each other batty..." She explained innocently, making him laugh.

"Well...I suppose they love each other enough to see past it." He said, returning to his work.

"I suppose..." She murmured fighting the sudden on come of exhaustion. This morning's rehearsal had been brutal, since Erik had been a bit more critical of her than usual because he didn't want anyone to think he was giving her special treatment.

"Christine, if you're tired you can go to your room and sleep...no one said you have to spend every waking moment with me..." Erik said, writing, but when he looked up she was already asleep on the sofa. He had to admit, she was quite sweet when her mouth was shut. With a chuckle he stood and moved to cover her with his coat and as the ring he'd bought her sparkled in the setting sunlight coming from the window caught his eye, he smiled sadly at the thought of it.

* * *

"Here I made dinner..." Meg said, sitting across from Alexis in their small home. Surprise and appreciation filled his eyes. Life had reached a comfortable routine with them though they still were shy around each other. Both were tired from rehearsal, but Meg was ecstatic because today was her first day back in the ballet since her miscarriage. The ballet was where she truly belonged though she'd thoroughly enjoyed performing as Amneris in _Aida._ However, the opera was taking a break and Monsieur Destler was holding auditions for_ Giselle, _a role that Meg had wanted to play since she saw her mother dance the title role as a child.

Tonight, Meg was sore but happy. She and Alexis had agreed to wait until after the season ended to try and have a baby so that she could take the entire season off. The news of Christine and Monsieur Destler had been a pleasant surprise, since she had known all along that Christine harbored a flame for him. Any dolt could see that the two of them were meant for each other. Even Alexis had noticed it when he had first become friends with Christine. Christine had briefly told Meg about Erik's mother and what a witch she was, but the way Erik looked at her made Meg realize that everything was going to be fine with them

"My mother wrote to me today...she wants to meet you." Alexis said, taking a drink of his milk. Meg chewed on her food thoughtfully.

"What about your father?" She asked and he shook his head.

"He died two years ago..." He said, darkening.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She replied softly. He sighed.

"It's fine...anyway...I should warn you about my mother...she's very...hard, but once you get to know her she is wonderful. It's the Russian in her she always used to say." He said with a chuckle.

"Oh..." Meg said softly. "I hope she likes me..."

"Of course she will...she's a ballerina."


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the wait, was not working for me. Enjoy. More soon, I hope. We'll see. **

"What am I supposed to say to her? Hello nice to meet you, your son got me pregnant so we got married and then I miscarried so now he's stuck with me, glad you're my mother-in-law?" Meg stammered out hysterically as they awaited the arrival of Alexis and his mother at her mother and Gustave's home. Erik sat uncomfortably between Christine and her father. Christine's father had shown no signs of dislike for him, but since their entire engagement was a farce, he felt even guiltier. Especially since he'd deflowered the girl. Still Gustave was courteous and kind and if he knew about Erik's intimacy with his daughter, he gave no indication of it.

Antoinette calmly flitted from the kitchen, checking on her roast, to the living room, tidying up a little bit, straightening Meg. Christine was in a deep discussion with her father about the choices for next season's opera. _La Traviata_ was a fairly newer opera and Christine was looking forward to it. The door finally opened about about twenty minutes later, as Antoinette was just setting the roast on the table. Meg stood quickly, rigid as a board as her husband escorted a small, lithe woman into the house. They seemed to be arguing, though it was hard to tell since they were speaking in Russian.

The little bit Erik was able to pick out was,

"These French ballerinas have no discipline when it comes to the dance…are you sure she is very good?" Alexis, frustrated bit his tongue and introduced her to everyone.

"Sorry we're late…this is my mother, Larisa Manislav." Antoinette nearly dropped the plates she was carrying.

"Larisa Manislav? The most famous Russian ballerina of our time?" Alexis nodded uncomfortably, but his mother-in-law surprised him by setting her plates down and coming forward to take his mother's hands.

"Larisa…you probably don't remember me, but we met at the Paris Opera when you toured through almost twenty years ago…"

"Antoinette Giry." The woman said sharply. "I remember. One of the only promising ballerinas in the Opera Populaire…I helped you with your ghastly turn out." She said and Annie nodded, smiling.

"I was only sixteen…" She said. Larisa nodded.

"And you worked your way above the politics of the opera…" She said, eyeing Meg.

"This is your daughter I presume?" She asked, looking back at her son, who nodded nervously. The small woman began to circle Meg, inspecting her from top to bottom. Poking at her here and pinching her there to determine her muscle tone. In a thick Russian accent, she asked firmly.

"Is it hard to pirouette with such large breasts?" The blood drained from Meg's face as she began to stutter.

"I…no…that is, it's not…it's…"

"You may want to look into wrapping yourself before dancing." The woman cut her off. "Large breasts are not ideal for a dancer." She said.

Meg crossed her arms about her chest protectively and looked helplessly at her husband whose eyes were apologetic.

"Why, it's nothing to be ashamed of girl…we all have our flaws. It's just finding ways to get around them. Take my word, child, it will help you in the long run…your career will last…" Annie, seeing her child's discomfort, said.

"Larisa…with all due respect, Meg dances beautifully just the way she is." Annie said protectively, putting her arm around Meg's shoulder. Meg had completely stiffened and Annie knew she was near tears.

"Antoinette, please do not misundertand...and do not correct me, I know my art. Your daughter, as good as she may be will be forced to retire early." She said knowingly and Annie glared at her.

"Mother please..." Alexis begged but the woman stopped him.

"She will...for she will have back problems...you see the large breasts put more weight on the front causing her to eventually lean forward...it ruins the dancer's posture...I've seen girls have their hearts broken over it. You must take great care of yourself Marguerite...I see the passion in your eyes."

Meg looked at the woman in amazement how she could go from a cold calculating former ballerina, to a caring motherly type in moments. Alexis, gently pulled Meg aside and whispered.

"Meg...it means she likes you...she's very different the way she expresses herself." Meg nodded wearily and patted his shoulder.

"It's going to be a long night...isn't it?" She asked. He nodded apologetically.

Dinner was somewhat more successful than introductions. Meg remained quiet as a mouse as Christine eyed the roast she loved. For some reason she just had no appetite tonight. She managed to eat enough though and after the meal, she and Erik said their goodbyes and had to return to the opera. Christine wanted to go to sleep and Erik wanted to go to his own home. The carriage ride there was silent as well. Finally she could take the quiet no more as they said their goodbyes to each other.

"I can't do this anymore! I can't lie like this...I'm confessing..." He put his hand on her shoulder.

,,"I know it's hard...but please for me...just until after the New Years ball tomorrow. Please Christine..."

"Fine," She replied angrily, "But I am not going to pretend any longer than that." She said and turned to walk into the lobby alone. As he watched her go he cold realization came over him and he sighed.

"Who's pretending Christine?"

Raoul de Chagny frowned at this scene, coming to apologize to Christine for his actions of late. After he'd heard she was engaged, all of the desperation and love he thought he held for her calmed into a contented friendly feeling and he was mortified by the way he had behaved with her. Every time he looked at Rachelle, guilt spread through him like wildfire, and Julian was growing and it was obvious the baby loved his father. Raoul found Christine sitting on the stairs in the lobby and sat beside her.

"Hello." He said looking at his feet.

"Hello." She said listlessly. He frowned at how she was slumped against the railing.

"Are you alright?" He asked and she looked at him as if it were a chore to move her eyes. Sighing, she replied,

"Not really Raoul, what is it you want?" He stumbled for an answer and finally handed her the small bouquet of flowers he had.

"These are for you...I...I'm sorry...for the way I acted before. It was crazy and stupid and I'm..." She cut him off, by lunging at him and kissing him full on the lips.

He responded but only for a moment before pulling her away.

"Christine no!" He said, as she tried again to get at his lips. She stopped, looking up at him tearfully.

"Isn't this what you wanted Raoul?" She asked and he stood.

"No! Christine...the way I behaved before was unacceptable and it has been eating away at me for the past few months. I came to beg for your forgiveness, especially now since you are engaged." He stopped talking to study her face. "You are engaged, aren't you?" The surprise was evident in her eyes.

"I...well, yes..."

"Look, I waited her for four hours because I can't sleep at night, because I behaved like an animal. My wife and I still have our problems and I still have some feelings for you, but not like I did..." For some reason, this pained Christine and she began to cry.

"It isn't fair..." She sobbed, "You don't want me...he doesn't want me...why did things have to be so different before?" She asked him. He looked confused.

"When were things different?" He asked innocently and she looked up realizing she sounded insane.

"Nothing..." She said and allowed him to pull her into a brotherly embrace.

They were interrupted by Erik's sharp stern voice.

"Pardon me Vicomte..." He practically spat, his voice laced with suspicion, " But there has been a situation at your home and you are wanted. The police are waiting for you outside." He said. Raoul's face became visibly frightened.

"What happened?" He asked and Erik remained grim.

"Your house was broken into and robbed. Your wife is in the hospital and your son is in the care of your sister, Alana." Raoul, forgetting Christine let go of her and began to run out the door of the Opera, turning back to Erik before he left.

"Thank you Destler." He said and the man nodded at him dismissing the boy before turning his glare on his faux fiancée.

"Aren't we the conniving little vixen?" He asked, accusingly. She returned the glare.

"What do you mean?" She asked, wiping her eyes.

"One minute you're with me, the next you are in the arms of the Viscount de Chagny. Could you imagine the scandal?" He asked firmly. She growled at him.

"What do you care?" She spat at him. "You're just using me to get back at your mother because she hates you...let's stop pretending...you don't love me...you never did." He turned away for a moment.

"Go pack some things...you're coming to my house for the night..." He instructed and she put her hands on her hips.

"I am not..."

"Christine...after what happened with this criminal on the loose hurting Rachelle de Chagny like that...I don't want you here alone."


	15. Chapter 15

**After this one, all chapters are going to be re-edited. One of my readers has graciously offered to help me with editing. No more long waits...**

"You're a sick, power hungry bastard. You know that, don't you?" Christine asked, pushing past her false lover.

"Think what you will, just do as I say..." He replied sternly, standing watch as she threw her clothes angrily into a satchel. Unable to look at him as she packed her things, she decided to ask what had happened.

"What did that criminal do to Rachelle?" Erik silently thanked God for making progress with her.

"She was struggling from what I understand and she fell down the stairs, breaking her arm and twisting her ankle quite bad. The maids said she had fainted, so they brought her to the local hospital."

"Goodness." She said softly, tying the bag and pulling on a coat. The darkness along with the quiet of the opera house was deafening and made her suddenly feel on edge.

"Erik...I want to leave." She said reaching out for his coat and gripping the sleeve. Gently, he took the bag from her and guided her with a hand on her back out to his carriage. As he expected, she was asleep before they even reached his home, so he handed her things to his footman and carried her in to the bedroom she would be using. He had all but undressed her for bed, when his housekeeper shooed him and scolded him for being indecent before setting to the task herself.

Once the woman was gone, Erik made his way back into the guest room and made sure all of the windows were locked and the drapes were shut.

"For someone who pretends to be so cool and collected, you are a nervous wreck, Erik." Christine said sleepily, peering over the blankets.

"Go to sleep, Christine." He said, sitting in the armchair near her bed and opening a book.

"What about you? Aren't you tired?" She asked, yawning. He looked up at her in annoyance and shook his head.

"I am fine, thank you."

The truth was, Erik Destler wasn't fine. Erik was worried. Worried about the maniac roaming the streets of Paris. Worried about Rachelle de Chagny and her son. Worried about Christine and scared to death about what that worry meant.

"Erik...I just can't stop thinking about this mess we've gotten into and how we're going to get out of it." She said, sitting up in bed.

"Well, we could always get married...but what good would that do since we hate each other?" He asked, setting the book aside.

"I don't hate you Erik." Christine said, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on them. "I never could."

"How kind of you..." He muttered dryly.

"Erik, why can't you allow yourself to feel anything?" She asked. "You obviously do feel something for me. You brought me here."

"Look Christine, it would not be fair for me to marry you...I...can't give you what you need...I've done things, horrible things." He didn't know for sure, but he could have sworn she rolled her eyes.

"As if that would surprise me..." She muttered, brushing a curl out of her face. He stood up angrily.

"Meaning what?" He asked, crossing his arms."Is this about that damned dream again?" Christine's eyes shot death at him as she struggled to suppress her anger.

"Yes...as a matter of fact. You killed people..." She replied without emotion and was surprised by the variety of emotions she saw in his eyes. Fear, anger, revenge, sorrow, grief and hatred. Not one trace of warmth or love in those eyes.

"You have...haven't you Erik?" She asked in a whisper. He still glared at her, wordless. After what seemed like half an hour, he motioned her to sit and sat himself.

"Unfortunately, yes." He haltingly admitted. "You see, my dear," he said in a voice far too much like the patronizing tone she'd remembered from her dream., "I've been nearly everywhere, even Persia. And it was there, that I killed for sport..." When she gasped he shook his head.

"Not for my pleasure Christine...but for the sick pleasure of the Persian Queen...the khanum. Her son was king and he wanted her to be happy and she took to me...so I became her pet of sorts. She had a morbid fascination with death and she begged me to build a torture chamber...a hall of mirrors. Finally, after refusing, I was ordered by the Shah himself and he threatened execution if I did not comply. So...through my duty to the Shah... I learned the art of killing and though you may not think so, murder is indeed an art."

He studied her for a moment, the intent but unreadable look on her face.

"They called me..."

"The Angel of Death." Christine finished for him. The surprise on his face was clear.

"Yes..." He replied skeptically. How could she have known that from some stupid dream she'd had months ago?

"You told me once...below the opera." She said quietly, looking into her hands. She looked like a small child then, sparking a sudden memory of his own. It was a recurring dream he'd had for the past year, but it didn't register until this very moment.

He was running toward the sound of a child crying, always running, knowing his way through the dark halls of the opera like the back of his hand. As he neared the chapel, the crying grew louder and it was evident that a small child was praying.

"Oh please...please Daddy...you promised...you promised to send me the Angel of Music...oh where is he? I've been such a good girl since you left me...I listen to Aunt Annie...I say my prayers...but why?" She went on and on as Erik finally realized he was behind the wall of the chapel. Peering through a hole, he caught his first glimpse of the girl. She was seated in front of a single lit candle with her head in her hand, her long dark hair falling in wild curls around her as she sobbed. As his hand found it's way to his own cheek, he felt the smooth, cool texture of a porcelain mask. It was always then he would wake up. Always the same dream. Had he met Christine in another life?

Hope filled Christine's eyes.

"You do believe me don't you Erik?" She said. He said nothing as he studied her. "Have you had the same dream?" She asked quickly.

"Not the same one." He said in response, almost too fast. At the expectant look on her face, he sighed.

"Fine..." He muttered. "I'll tell you." Erik noted the looks she gave him during his brief description of the dream he had. After all, his was much less interesting and vivid than hers and it well could have been coincidence.

Once he'd finished, she was quiet, her head tilted to one side. The color had gone from her face.

"Erik...I'm tired...this is all too much." She said, lying down. He nodded.

"Alright...I'll leave you." He said, getting up, but the tug of her hand on his sleeve stopped him.

"Please stay..." She begged. Looking desperately toward the door, he realized it was no use. "My stomach is in knots..." She said, feeling almost dizzy.

"What can I do for you?" He asked, crouching beside the bed. She looked him in the eyes, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Could you just hold me while we sleep?"

"Y-you want me to sleep in the bed with you?" He asked, standing. She tried to laugh.

"You ravaged me on your floor downstairs, and are using me to get revenge on your selfish mother, yet you won't share a bed with me for perfectly innocent reasons?"

At last, he relented, and undressed to his trousers, leaving them on. When he crawled into the wide bed, his arm draped easily across Christine's waist and somehow, her hand found his and held it there. He dreamed that night. Only this time, they were standing together. It was dark and it was cold, but the dim light from the candles gave the area a sort of warmth. He realized he was showing her his...home? His organ graced the same spot he'd always had it, but his den was somewhat romanticized. There were draperies and furniture and papers everywhere. He heard himself telling her,

"You have betrayed me Christine." His voice was cold. _How did she betray me?_

"I'm sorry Angel, I do not understand..." She said, tears in her eyes. _Angel?_ He felt his fists clench as he said,

"You did not sing for me...but for someone else." He accused.

"Who?" She asked innocently.

"You know who...the Vicomte de Chagny..." He said. _What?_

"Oh...no! I swear...I mean, Raoul is an old friend of mine, but..."

"You've come too far to throw it away for some rich boy. I know what is best for you." She was crying now.

"I'm sorry..." She said, bowing her head. His mind screamed at him. _What is the matter with you? Manipulating this child? _

She disappeared into what seemed to be a bedroom and shut the door. Inside, he could hear her soft crying. Shaking his head, he turned and began to stride toward something. He pulled back a curtain to reveal Christine! It was obviously a doll. Dear Christ, had he made that doll? Was he that obsessive? With a start, he jumped and woke up breathing heavily. Christine had dropped his hand in her sleep. Adjusting his covers, he stared at the ceiling. What was happening to them? Maybe it was as Nadir had once told him.

"Soul mates are a very mysterious and interesting concept...some say that they are predestined to meet the person they should be with, and fate could even bring them together through their minds."

Of course, Erik did not believe in soul mates, nor did he believe Christine was his own, but it was a bit intimidating to him. He decided not to think on it and allowed himself to drift back into slumber. A long dreamless sleep quickly took him and though he did not realize it, his companion had woke at the exact same second with tears streaming down her face. She was not well. Not well at all...


	16. Chapter 16

Christine woke the alone, the house was utterly silent. The tick of the clock was the only sound to be heard. Faintly, the smell of breakfast wafted through the thick door. Christine forced herself out of bed and dressed quickly, tying her wild hair back. As she walked down the stairs, she could hear the muffled sound of arguing male voices coming from Erik's office. One of course, being Erik, the other, she regretfully recognized as Raoul. "The point Chagny, is that you waited for my fiancée to return when you should have been at home caring for _your _wife. Not a woman who belongs to someone else. Christine glowered at the closed door _How dare he..._

"Forgive me _sir, _for wanting to be friends with my childhood playmate...I have no ill intentions toward her and I most certainly love my wife as she loves me and intend to never lose sleep another night worrying about her." Raoul's heated voice shot at Erik, who in turned snarled at the boy.

"I don't want you near her alone ever again, do you hear me?" Christine could take no more of this madness. Rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth, she pushed the door open forcefully and the two men turned, startled, toward the door. Her chocolate eyes blazed at them both, her slender arms folded neatly across her bosom.

"Is there a problem in here, gentlemen?" She asked quietly.

"Christine have you never heard of knocking?" Erik asked, returning her icy glare. Raoul noted the intensity of the rage boiling between the two of them and suddenly felt extremely out of place.

"Maybe I should just go Christine..." He said, reaching for his coat without taking his eyes off of the couple. They looked as if they were either going to rip each others' heads or clothes off.

"No Raoul." Came her curt reply, "Erik is going to apologize to you. _Now._"

"_What?" _Was the response from her would-be betrothed.

"You heard me...Charles Erik Destler." Erik's green eyes shot fire at her, yet she could not mistake a hint of amusement beneath his rage.

"You are just going to blame me and fault him nothing for it?" He asked. Her glance flitted to the obviously uncomfortable Viscount. He shifted under her gaze like a scolded child.

"Really Christine...I can just..."

"Raoul, shut _up._" She cut in before turning back to Erik. Pointing at her friend, she said, "_He _I cannot speak for. He is not _my _fiancé, _you _are, and as you believe I am your property, then you are _mine. _Now _apologize._" Erik glared at her but muttered something slightly similar to "I'm sorry," under his breath. Raoul's mouth dropped. Never had he seen Destler break, especially so easily. He didn't know what to say.

"No really Destler it's fine..."

"And _you..._" She went on, turning to Raoul again. "Do not think for one moment that I will not inform your _wife _of this nonsense. I am so very disappointed in both of you." She sighed, finished. "Raoul, you may leave." The Viscount, now dismissed, practically broke down the door trying to escape the terrifying being that was Christine Daae.

"What the devil was that Christine?" Erik asked her, irritated. She spun on him.

"Look Erik. If you can use your part in this charade to your advantage, so can I." He scowled at her before stomping out of the room. She felt a strange sense of pride in herself, before setting to dress for that night.

The dress she had chosen was not a pink ballgown as it had been in her dream. It was gold with a draped skirt and a beaded bodice. The sleeves lay off the shoulder and accented her light skin perfectly. It was not so much a costume as it was a masterpiece. Her hair was swept up, set with small gold jewels throughout her curls. At the base of her slender neck was a black ribbon which contrasted flawlessly. The finishing touches were a gold bracelet and satin slippers. The real triumph, however, was the look on Erik's handsome face when he saw her that way. It was obvious that all thoughts of their previous argument had been forgotten and that tonight would be one to remember.

He looked lovely as he always did to her. His black hair neatly slicked back, the black and gold trimmed suit perfectly tailored to his tall, muscular frame. A billowing black cape graced his attire, completing the look. In his hand was a black box too big to be jewelry and too small to hold clothing.

"A gift, Queen Christine." He said teasingly, bowing slightly. She smacked his arm playfully before taking the box. The note read:

_Masquerade...paper faces on parade..._

_my dear, what is a masked ball without a mask? _

It was gold, perfectly matched to her gown. He helped her place it on her face, grinning at the result.

"What about you?" She asked suddenly. He frowned.

"What _about _me?" He asked in confusion. She giggled.

"Why Erik, you don't have one." Surprise was evident in the expression he wore and he half smiled.

"I do believe you're right my dear..." He offered his hand to her. "Come. I am sure I have _something _lying around..."

Erik's attic was cold, dark, vast and damp. And wonderful. All of the artifacts he'd collected in his worldly travels adorned the room.

"These are amazing Erik!" She exclaimed, touching a yard of Persian silk. He smiled.

"Thank you, I do wish I had the time to use them in my decorating as I would like, but I simply don't. The opera is quite the undertaking." He had apparently found what he was looking for, a large trunk near the window.

A cloud of dust rose as he opened it and found his item. A plain white mask meant to cover the right half of the face.

"Oh, my...my..." She stammered recognizing it.

"Is everything alright Christine?" He asked, dusting it off and putting it on. When he'd finished and turned to face her, she was staring back at the man from her dream. "Christine," He laughed, "You look as though you've seen a ghost!" She quickly averted her gaze and muttered,

"Don't I know it..."

* * *

The ballroom was already crowded when they arrived. People of society swarmed back and forth to each other, mingling. The Vicomte, of course, was present as he was the biggest patron of the opera, but was not staying long as he had a wife and young son waiting for him at home that he was eager to see. It was nice, for once, to look at Christine Daae, who was easily the most exquisite woman in the room, and feel nothing but the same deep affection he felt for his sister. Christine and Destler were something close to royalty tonight with their gold accents and glowing beauty. The dark tan of his skin contrasted perfectly with the ivory of hers. 

"Excuse me sir?" Raoul's attention was interrupted by a man, most likely in his mid forties with a small note pad and pen.

"May I help you?" He asked kindly. The man nodded.

"I am doing research for a book I am writing, could you show me where to find the manager?"

Erik was enjoying one of Christine's curls which had broke free and was tickling the nape of her neck as she spoke excitedly to Marguerite. He suppressed a yawn as he watched the couples dance by. Vaguely, he listened to the girls' chatter.

"Yes, but if all goes well, Alexis will be a father by next November." Meg was saying. Christine held her sister's hands.

"Are you sure you are ready for all of this? Especially so soon after losing the baby?"

"Excuse me Destler." Erik cringed at the sound of the Viscount's voice beside him, but turned to acknowledge his presence. Christine's attention had also turned to the Vicomte.

"Erik, this gentleman is doing some research on the opera house and..."

"I don't do interviews with reporters." Erik replied coldly, ignoring Christine's glare. She looked at the man apologetically.

"Oh sir...I am not a reporter. I am a writer..." Erik nearly rolled his eyes.

"Good for you. How does this concern me?" He asked, his voice hard.

"Erik..." Christine's warning whisper came. The man never faltered, in fact, the smile never left his face. Raoul had quickly engaged himself in a conversation with Meg to escape the exchange of icy glares between Destler and Christine. Finally after a moment in a battle of wills, Christine emerged the silent champion.

"Fine." Erik sighed. "I will allow you to research _my _opera house Monsieur...?" The man looked up surprised.

"Leroux. Gaston Leroux."


	17. Chapter 17

Just a Note:

I don't know if anyone is still interested in this story, but I am going to try to pick it up again.

Hope all is well and thank you for having read it to begin with.

Sydnee


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